Bridges
and rivers And buildings pulled down Time
spent in places my footsteps had found Mirrors
in ballrooms lie smashed on the ground Walking
with November mists
Pathways and windows And
movies in May Quiet old ladies who soon
pass away Paintings and songs that
I'd done in a day Going round in my head
Fires on spires And
chimneys of black Fields on horizons With
pylons that crack With singing sad wires
For council house mystics To apply their
statistics And read the tea leaves Time
knows no limits for days such as these
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