Evening Song
Everything was a bit better at the waterfront
Who was experiencing very slow decay
Who was turning into a laurel tree
Don't you know there's still a place
On the branch of the hanging tree?
It's fitful for a crow or a dove
Past the wasteland we make our home
Past the cocoon we made our bed
The rain will drop on scorch dry land
And every dusk is a mirror
Shall we shatter into the night?
Shall we stutter into the night?
Your hanging frame would be a decent lantern
To guide us back to our home
And I will wrap you into a soft cocoon
Like a scorched moth under the moon
By Aran Meredith
April 2025
