It makes you forget,
that you are just a dying beast,
stills your gnashing, stops your thrashing,
sends the sun crashing east,
brings the dead back as they were,
glues each and every porcelain shard,
Amazing how a memory
turns an inch into a yard
You are there, you are whole,
and the sun won’t quite go down
You are warm, you are cool,
and you’re free from the hounds.
At Home With The Hounds
