After all is time sufficient?

It is the want of a bread basket
That drives this basket case,
To this fold in the clothing
And the flat iron sheets.

And love whispered
is love exhumed.
Matchless,
There will be no other.
After all is time sufficient?

It has been over many years
That the buried
And forgotten
Have been rested.
I speak of course
Of letters,
And the syllables written
On the surface of old odd hearts.

In the flash of a hash tag
I have found you.
After all this time.

© 2018 Christopher Thompson

Rush poetry  Started 10.44an Ended 10.58am BST
Written in England.


 

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