Memories travelled on surfaces wet, conducting.

Memories travelled on surfaces wet, conducting.

A Poem by andrew mitchell

When memories ran
down the window pane,
fingers swirled on glass, wet;
tracing tears running vain
on the reflection of sorrows spent;
thunders echoed while church bells chimed,
in the distance showers, rained;
shadows scrambled for cover,
hiding the pasts of tomorrow stained,
in the fear of being uncovered.

© 2017 andrew mitchell


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Added on February 18, 2017
Last Updated on February 18, 2017

Author

andrew mitchell
andrew mitchell

adelaide, Australia



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Strindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..