Might
Mind is delicate
You might have to shut it down
For
recovery
I can feel the draft
You might like to shut the door
As
war closes in
Might is always right
Often for the wrong reasons
When minds are shut down
Flood
Washing machine floods
The flat is awash in suds
Time to
move again
She wakes to red mist
Endorphins flood her tired brain
Bloody
dream again
Post meditation
A flood of new ideas
He
begins to write
Whine
Moaning and groaning
Fresh government ministers
Old
whines, new bottles
Sunday afternoons
Languid garden mood broken
Next
door's mower whine
We lay down to rest
Troubles over for today
Then the
mozzie whines
Travel
Travel into space
From edge of eternity
Blue
planet beckons
Living on the edge
Blue thoughts colouring my world
Need to
travel on
Sharp blue horizon
Straight edge between sea and sky
Travels
round the world
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