Sunday, 8 March 2026

As For Me

 

As For Me

 

And as for me,

as a war rains confetti

for street sweepers

to clear from paths,

for who knows

who will get the last laugh

or what this one

or that one feels?

The Church bells peal

beg Felix Mendelssohn

encore, encore, my son,

but I only can see,

phantoms of wedded pairs,

one of them me

and most of them who

are no longer there

hand in hand, vanishing,

heading off-screen

into might have been.




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