Warmth at the end of the tunnel

A series of nothing but rhyme

Minutes of noise releasing time

No rhythm, no wine


A cold day of light

draining away

to a cold stew


freezing emotions as the wind blew


A pointless date named Sunday night

barren of purpose


once useful hours long disposable

rendered a vacuum by my memory you


As I anticipate the warmth

when you appear with a smile

a scent of you near

the minutes seem longer


until you break the time warp

with you