Poem 16/4/2014

A Sonnet to a morning scene

The sun shines faintly, the sky is leaden grey
Dead trees stand in lines but do not sway
The birds no longer sing the breaking dawn
Their bodies lie still, brittle and forlorn
The stale summer air is a chilling breeze
In the stream brackish water starts to freeze
Once-proud buildings – statements – that once stood straight
Now huddle, dismayed, at their broken state
Perhaps elsewhere there is a shoot of green
But if there is, it is as yet unseen
A hope I have searched for, as yet unfound
Yet my hope, though denied, is still unbound
Though flesh fails and soon I pass away
Life renews and children will once more play
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