On the western shore

by Philip Kane

The sorcerer’s chair is facing the west
and there is a shower of poppy petals.
How lost we are, how lost now
among the mysteries of this time
we did not expect. Yet still;
the servants come to us daily,
bringing green tea and bitter sandwiches,
and it is comfortable enough to watch
as the last birds fall from the sky.
We came from bright cities, we remember
as we remember lovers, fading shapes
pressed into the sheets, and always
there is the scent of marble. All gone.
We came here to wait on the shoreline,
but what for? Somebody
should have taken a note.
Instead there is a cursory nod to purpose,
and the gradual contentment of twilight.
Somebody should have taken a note.
There are poppy petals thick underfoot
and the sorcerer’s chair remains empty.
The servants are dying out
one by one. Somebody should
have taken a note. How lost we are.

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~ by londonsurrealistgroup on December 19, 2011.

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