Thursday, June 28, 2018

The Ruins

It’s not romantic
To wake up in the ruins
If the ruins are your own.

But the day passes,
And by its end, the sunset
Feels as fine as any dawn.

Yes, these ruins are your own,
But you don’t have to own them.
By twilight they’re silhouettes,
Stages and curtains,

Shadows in and out of them,
Bats and foxes coming back
To hunt among your remains,
And all’s romantic again.

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