Exile

I spend
more time
now building walls

I am so good
There’s things
I hardly think about at all

‘Til sunlight
drives a chink
through shadows tall

& then I fall.

by Andrew Fincham

Comments (1)

Whoever gave that a vote of 10 does not understand poetry. I'll keep it there, rather than delet the thing, just to demonstrate the absurdity of voting. Thanks, anyway. Ax