… rain and strange

The day.

The day was full of rain and strange
Whereby the streets lay soaked and mad;
I paced about with winnowing mind as
That which ( I ) no longer had

Came sinking without concepts through
Which one could find a word to say;
The world was tired, so was ( I ) –
And full of rain and strange, the day.

And one remembers, one drank tea:
How very odd a memory –

The pressing ache of no goodbye,

The loss of

[ you ]

 
the end

 
of

 
 
( i )

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

One thought on “… rain and strange”

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