T

The sun rises on the cliff
And sets on the leeward slope
Which listens, hearing more than it is told
By crumbling face and aching joints,
The wind's injustice
And the blackbird's
Drowned
Lament.

It does not see the the searchlight beams
Of sun's blind brilliance,
Lighting ships lost and worn rocks,
Where all things fall away:

Only honeyed light and pale green ground,
Half a world away.

For a Friend

by smithlizzie

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