Author: Pontvert

Woken in the night,
Dragged from deep dreamless slumber,
Second half too short.

Out taking photos,
The moon in the clear black sky,
Was bright and defined.

Caught in a landslide,
No escape from what it is,
The music has stopped.

Fun chocolate treats,
And those little waste wrappers,
Forming a small pile.

The train runs fast now,
Clear of the country’s green space,
And into London.

Clear skies welcome us,
The sun hazily greets us,
Through its cloudy eyes.

Nine hundred and nine,
Since the last date palindrome,
Most didn’t care much.

Feb knocks on the door,
It’s cold outside, he’s waiting,
He has lost his keys

Jan finally left,
Her cold expressions remain,
And Feb strides in now.

The ground he steps on,
Is cold and frost marks his steps,
The sky’s cold and blue.

The waters are still,
Cold and unmoving so dark,
Reflecting the night.

Falling ever down,
The rain drops always falling,
But they will return.

The waters flow fast,
I can’t stand sure anymore,
And the ground’s moving.

The trees, naked, stare,
Their bare branches stretching out,
Reaching for some air.

Meetings more neetings,
Prepare, invite, and present,
Then write up the notes.

Not so cold today,
The sun is shining brightly,
Always good to see.

I’ve had busy days,
Lots of work and train delays,
Have both kept me back.

The days is so cold,
Bus cancelled waiting longer,
Frozen to the core.