By Chris Wharton
Date: 22 June 2000
Again
A feigned newness does
the unefforted moment bring,
even while we hide.
Confined, conformed,
and with comfortable variation...
just scary enough to seem novel.
And we ask the littlest why's.
Until here and there the break
does come...
A season's sun misplaced
in another season's sky.
It cracks the mirror and lets
the blinding light invade
the comfortably dark nooks and crannies
of one's inside.
But beautiful newness light
too much to see easily;
and lost again,
she goes before I.
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