The Legacy of Jane

The simple pleasures,

I saw her
In each dream, unique as majesty,

She said,
“I’m going to take you away,”
And drew the spirit
From forgiveness,

The empty spaces,

Numbers rise,
John Doe after John Smith,
Working death for the briefest passion,
Another sustained applause,

She asked,
“Was each dream veracity deprived?”

Curling up by the fire
To rage a different lie,
Beauty regains assurance,
Lovers drawn by the indifference.


Poem © Phen Weston 2015


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