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Thursday, 22 September 2005 00:00

Grey Angel

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He was a kind of angel,
Building his perch in the rockface,
A DIY nest of packaging and foil,
Keeping a lookout all evening,
White wings furled.

While the sea wind slowly
Rubbed the cliff
Into oblivion.

He was only a kind of angel,
Immaculate, untested,
For what kind of angel
Is afraid to fly?


Then I fell for you:
Surrendered to empty air
Went without
Feathers, mortgages, metaphors,
Let go of all my losses
Losing grip of everything
Grey feathered now

Drinking pints of sky

Rinsed by the wind


Peter Jukes 2003

Read 1497 times Last modified on Monday, 03 November 2014 11:20
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