water fell from cut down hearts,
chopped down delirium of naked starts,

hewed hopes and empty hallucinations
where we demolish torn down stations,

and all the dead sycamores lined in a row,
were promised deep roots to bestow

their wildest introvert lullabies
upon storm clouds of reticent skies,

and from the canopy, each hacked down level,
razed between cacophony and devil,

were there reasons to fall apart
in summer downpours and atriums of the heart?

Poem © Phen Weston 2015

8 thoughts on “Down

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