We Falter, Our Falling Too Facile
Whose is the hand that eats my head?
And whose the sullen claw
Which turns the virgin pillow red
With insubstantial gore?
Whose cries disturb the midnight calm?
And whose the glassy dawn
Which breaks the unsuspecting arm
With unexampled brawn?
Why must I eat ere I retire
And bathe before I drop?
Such habits loathsome dreams inspire
And waking cannot stop
The visions that assail my brain
And daze each reeling sense
Till all my thoughts swirl down the drain
In tumult quite immense
When shall wee threesomes meet again?
In avalanche or storm?
It seems we never could explain
How each of us kept warm
Who dares to cross the blasted heath?
Who dares to haunt the Hague?
My mind's a swirling mass beneath
While, up above, 'tis vague
| Contributors: | P, Roland, TG. |
| Poem finished: | 13th June 2000. |