Again The Singer


In the winter in the rain
A bit off centres then again
Tables tilting vertiginous slant
Like some dizzy-sick innocuous cant

Go to church of forest deep in the wood
Learn all you may to be misunderstood
One hundred degrees of snow is falling
While birds go wheeling like bright stars
Making music out of magic pure as light

Somewhere quiet on a private plane alone
Wearing a camouflage of dreams and a soul headphone
Writing or taking notes destined to remain unknown
Love, there's no person, place or thing
I wouldn't trade to hear you sing,
A bit of centres then again
In the winter in the rain...



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 629 times
Written on 2013-05-29 at 22:06

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Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Beautiful, I really loved this, thank you

Elle
2013-05-30