Ruins

There comes a time
When one has to admit
That all one has worked for
Lies in ruins

Empty buildings
Unfit for purpose
Where once liveliness flourished
In hopeful prospect

But now shell-shocked and suffocated
Drifts aimlessly
Going through the motions
Awaiting oblivion
While sucking the last few drops of sweetness
From what remains

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‘Stitches in Time’ (Oil painting on board by Alan Rayner, 2020)
Poetry

Stitching in Time

Every moment is a turning point In ever-present current Carrying life across the gaps In human memory From future into past Without a pause for

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