yorkshire box
A heart beats and the city quietly hisses its the middle of a moonless night
only the gusting wind trying to get through my boxy world
can be heard, turned away by my grit stone blocks
made by quarried rock and time old blood and sweat of men in caps
i imagine the history of this room, families being made, passed on to next
no fuss when they leave and time carries on with its ever destructive, forward march
new shadows appear when it's night
what in the days is clear has a new light and mystery cast over it
your eyes your cheeks your tears your love is suddenly here. this is now,
and that's when time, for me...stops