A land of leaning
Hugged by plaster-grey arches of sky,
Flings itself
Into eternity. "Has no one come here to win you,
Or left you with the faintest
Upon your glittering breasts?
Have you no memories,
O Darkly Bright?" Cold-hushed, there is only the shifting moments That journey toward no Spring - No birth, no death, no time nor sun In answer.
