The Ethereal Light Of England's Spring
The ethereal light of England's spring
Came to fruition in all but the room where she lay,
Where the winter's tenacity ensured her enclosure always stayed December;
It had encroached upon her while she attempted to hide from
The sound of the dripping of the tap, under an unwashed duvet.
She lay in pain beneath this leaden shroud,
And as night encroached upon the trail of day
The agony yet again was transformed to ennui and
As she attempted to avoid ingesting her own blood and tears
She reminisced about her glory days
As the school-yard heroine
With a chip on her shoulder.
But a swift revelation realised thatt
Revelling in her rebellion, chancing at depravity,
Brought ultimately an untimely penalty.