Friday, 18 November 2016

Сезоните на Живота/Seasons of Life

Well, for me, of course,
it's autumn – that sting
of age and what I’m part of.

In the room that’s still open,
I’m doing my best to hold on:
flies delve into plums
and that’s just what they do.

The brows of ships nose out
into a harbour beyond the point.
I came home once
and I had none of it.

But that was me just saying
how old I might have been.

Image: Marina Shiderova; text: Tom Phillips

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