Come Mourning
poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2009


Ey, my mourning breath
Stinks like yesterdays leftovers
My eyes are watery
Like oceans, salty, wide

The sunshine shimmering
On the waves bitesized dust
Bring across my viewfield
A spectrum of drudge and hope

With mixed emotions
I rise up from my soft and structured bed
Where layered blankets
Slowly lose their warmth

And wait for me like reptiles
Until I when shade piles
Dive down under the covers to escape
This world

And live for a while
Only with my personal fiction.