by Pavel Chichikov
It takes the sun a long time to go down
To the grey smoke of the winter trees
But at last it burns and flashes, winter dusk
And the old man on his legs stands, says
I need my chair, but he walks all the same
To say this in my ear – no more of this
I can't take any more, my heart, my sleep
No longer comes at night, but for the pills
The happy pills that let me dreamless rest
In the very old one's face one sees
The young face, the boys's face, the child's
Down to the grey smoke of the winter trees
A thin young face and innocent
To think however much unbearable
It will be endless, never sink to dusk
I am a person with a name, I am
Jim, who used to be a runner then
And I was young and seventeen
It takes the sun a long time to go down
And as it hangs above the hill-rim stops
And waits, until the time has come to flame
And then it burns, what does it burn
When sunlight falls beneath the winter trees
Immortal trees, the leafless winter trees
Visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.
