I pulled the curtains back
To watch a Sunday’s
Drawn surrender
Through the silhouettes
Of careless trees
Made ghosts by falling rain,
The countless paltry suicides,
So small and clear and novel,
Passing constant
In the wishful air.

And there outside the glass,
Another semblance cast in grey,
Another effort lost poetically
To graceful bits of progress
Quitting one after the other,
A Sunday not so different
From the days that fell
Before and not so distant
From the man who watches
His reflection washed with tears
The rain has given,
And in only one more breath
Will look away

#London #UK

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