Delirium
Where can I find tranquillity,Serene state of waking sleep?
Libraries are dog-eared,
To be opened at a later date;
Museums are mothballed
Until the cobwebs break;
Art galleries switch off
Their installations and
Wait for the paint to dry.
I'll take my imagination
To the seaside, walking it
Along a bygone prom,
Throwing ancient pebbles
Into the twilight waves,
Trying to hit the moon
Under the water.
But my imagination
Has become agraphobic,
I'll stay at home instead,
Breathing the night air
In my grievingt garden.
Above in aspic,
A full moon blows
Me a kiss, or
Is it gasping?
If I squint my imagination,
I can just make out
The Sea of Tranquility.
Poetry by Christopher Fernie
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Written on 2020-11-05 at 13:05
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