December 2009
No Title
The ash grey field ahead
In its enormity distorted
And every space filled
With rocks in boredom blank
Wide open towards fading light
Still expecting a vision
As if it hadn’t happened
As if it were still possible
Within reach in each breath
Yet how stark the horizon
And how numb your canvas
When your heart in silence
Remembers a train gone by
Yvette Stenzel
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