DL (2/3/87 / Middlesbrough)


I sat quietly at my desk,
Gently fondling the cracked coffee mug
Lying perfectly in my hands,
Comforted by memories of thoughts yet to come.
Wayward steam floated softly before my eyes,
The thin mist penetrating my deepest beliefs.
Brooding reflections seemed no longer real
As my soul escaped reality to a place,
Where slumbering consciousness gazed.
Beyond the mist of the murky windowpane
A thin sliver of moon glanced beyond black velvet,
To stars arranging themselves in orderly discord,
Awaiting a night of luminous radiance.

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