Cyclic memoirs in a nightly gathering.

Cyclic memoirs in a nightly gathering.

A Poem by andrew mitchell

The nightly carousel of mind
went up and down,
round in circles;
doors slamming,
footsteps heavy,
windows rattling,
on bells chiming,
in a story told
on clouds brewing
from sleep no more.

© 2017 andrew mitchell


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Added on May 29, 2017
Last Updated on May 29, 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..