WHY DID I WAKE? WHEN SHALL I SLEEP AGAIN?
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In the past few days, have noticed a great many people coming to this site
for my discussion of the “Days of Wine and Roses” poem by Ernest Dowson.
In it...
1 month ago
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The moon is gone.
She fled as dawn approached.
Dawn as a slowly opening eye.
White sea birds skimming over the water,
looking for an early morning snack.
The mirror brightens.
From a blood moon at dawn to a mirror
reflecting waking life...
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I woke her to take the moon.
Her campaign was swift and terrible.
Metallic and fierce.
Flaring up in the twilight.
But the moon was both implacable and unreacheable
and in the end the war against the moon failed.
As dawn rose slowly from her bed, the moon slipped away.
But in the end, all that was lost,
was a little sleep....
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