Monday, 4 February 2013


Body stands naked and hungry
while drops of white rain fall cold
and the wind whips a mighty sting
as fated is the Slave
to watch others behold.
A beaded necklace pressed against dry lips
sits around neck, sore and burning.
Constant eyes keep on staring,
the flame flickers under bold banner.

And as the bells ring
And the cotton sales begin,
Lonely April does sing
Winter in May.

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