The Bookshop Sessions #3
Running beyond his days and nights
The chains of dawn begin to break
Was it the rain or the stars above
That keep it falling
Or is it just
The steps on a pavement
The callings of another
Between these, see
The lens itself, lies to Moor
For times long gone
He fails to hold the focus
A drunk man runs straight past
leaving the wind to brush through his shoulders
Doors open
