Hampstead Dawn
By mark_yelland-brown
Fri, 09 Sep 2011
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1 comments
I watched dawn rise over Hampstead
there were drip bags gently swaying
from the force of the electric fan.
Molly was still groaning:
"God fathers, God help us!"
I had a cup of warm milk in my hand
standing by the huge windows
watching the sun come up.
Behind the curtain that separated two hospital beds
Jeanette was sleeping and snoring.
I looked out over Hampstead
cocooned in the knowledge of my solitude
of complete anonymity
on the third floor, bed 9;
while the first rays weakly did not dazzle these Hampstead streets
spread out far below.
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Comments
This evokes the feeling of
This evokes the feeling of stillness and space, waiting. I'm glad you put in warm milk. Makes me think of human kindness. Beautiful, gentle poem
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