To lay Down ephemera. And offer one’s hand. Turning around the dreaming. Drifter asleep in the sand.
Oh for the apple tree. And it’s Windsor dales. Seldom eld wending figure. Of burdened bead. Yet soon to prevail.
Police are not scary. To those who have now slept. What night’s peace is now fit to carry. For those here who have laid down to keep. Have lain down to weep.
Personal Writings 