This one came to me just now, while sitting idly in the garden. I’ve not censored or edited it, just published as is. I wonder what you think?

These hidden worlds behind curtained panes,
Where sex and love and passion flames,
In every room a story waits,
Filled with sorrow, tears and hate,
And as I wander down dirty streets,
With tired bones and aching feet,
I close my eyes and see you there,
With sleep entwined about your hair,
Remembering the soft said words,
That sang a tune so seldom heard,
“It’s only life” you said to me,
“That colours all the world you see”,
But in my sadness deep and dark,
I could not take your words to heart,
And so succumbed to misery,
Believing not in you or me.


8 Responses to Worlds

  1. Shona says:

    Your poem is great. Gentle tone. Compassionate

  2. This has a really strong melancholic feel about it. A great piece, Simon!

  3. Jules Lucton says:

    Just what Shona and Chris just said!
    I particularly like “With sleep entwined about your hair,” xxx

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