Toll
Stay with me, my morning
won’t you sing for me, once more
now that the evening sun
is rising so distant that
the days have become long
and the light has become slow
The reeds in the bough
that rise and fall
wait for the spring that comes and is
a disquietude that rains in the heart
Never has the past
seemed so dark
to us who witness
the blight of a moon
that is here to stay
a starlight that falls down
like kicks on these rocks
like lashes on these shores
I read in Larkin about
the yet shoreless day
About the flames that break loose
About the bell that dries my throat
anton ivanov//@batailleordie