At Home With The Hounds

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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s