Waiting On A Holiday

One secret door shuts, 

And the night closes in again, 

Curls fingers around the openings of my eyes, 

The outline of foreign trees are native now, 

Deep colours gain the land, 

Settling in between the sand dunes, 

Silently becoming dissolute.

Exotic blood bleeds from every vista, 

Slips towards the sewer. 

A country away from the one I want, 

One imaginary line apart, 

And on this side of the border, 

Is no sunlight, so it seems, 

The land of the unseen sun, 

The desperate land that nurtures, 

My own fierce desperation. 


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