less than 1 minute read


The white cliffs had no end,
edges eaten by cloud,
an invisible sea below.

I think it was New Year

  • or was that another place,
    another time, another life?

We inched along the path,
lost amongst the static,
all context erased.

I know as we turned back
it grew thick around us,
Speech swallowed into silence.

I think it was two years ago.
Details have become indistinct,
blurred by the inevitable fog.



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