Most pictures and words from Anthony C Murphy

Tuesday, 5 July 2011


It is cold
Bluebird flew again
From the shallow south
To New Work
Where the song rings true
Or at least loud
And independent

It is cold
And skeletal trees
Leave us coverless
Here in an old country
With only tradition for comfort

It is cold
Now that she’s gone
And I pray for snow
For a difference to life
To blank it out
Or smother like a duvet

It is cold
With no warmth
From her mouth
No wit now
Or no kisses

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