Monday, 19 November 2007



Whoever called a curfew on the night
decided I should go to bed and miss
on every night such star-delight such bliss
demanded I should lose this outer sight?

Who said I should sleep through brilliant skies
insisted rest renewed in darkened hours
would fit me better yet to draw life's powers
than greeting dawn with star-demented eyes?

Who made the box and said that I should sit
within its walled-up confines in the dark
unconscious then but rising with the lark
still fettered by the box they made me fit?

Oh I will wander looney as I may
entrailing with the fox's loops and turns
I'll survive smelling bramble leaves and ferns
and rest in hours I've stolen from the day

copyright 1992 Charlotte Peters Rock

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