Nights

True strangeity of it:
returning at first light
through a world you vacated
a few hours ago, when it was elderly.

Morning, like the birth of spring,
expects youth and eagerness;
I am the eye of a kaleidoscope:
defiled by tiredness,
exhilarated by freedom,
grateful for the short journey home.

Published by

Julia Dean-Richards

Julia is a writer and performer living in the Shropshire hills. Her writing is a product and expression of the love she has found whilst journeying through the most difficult times of her life.

please feel free to comment on these poems - all feedback appreciated. :)

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