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Sorrow in the morning with Cornflakes

Not even sugar can sweeten

Sorrow; the hands of a clock weighed down

in this place time shall not pass

Sorrow; a handful of pills

In assorted colours of a bruise

Sorrow; miles and miles of road that never

stretches to any Promised Land

Only the thirsty mirage as tempting as a cobweb

Sorrow; the cycle of life rusted to a halt

That the colour of mourning drove the final nail

Up into:

This sorrow; a plexus of naked wires protruding

so none could get close, they could not touch

This sorrow: Gripped between the teeth of Munch’s Scream –



Then comes the swinging sword and the battle cry... and fades to:

Echo, echo: sweet dove as you fly me away swathed in a song:



“Bring me back someday to another mother’s womb”



NJP 8\4\2006