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FOGGY THOUGHTS OF YOU.
By Louis P. Burns aka Lugh © 2004

On the first of December
a menacing thief of thick,
white fog stole in...

The night before, I'd made Irish Stew.
As it reheated I set up my camera.

I was a witness.

I thought of

time-lapse.

Then angles.

Then angels.

Then you.

I watched through aching,
arched sunlight and saw us,
lost to one another.

Vapours slowly,
swirling, around
.

 

 

 

 

 


 

Fingers touched
then clutched
then covered both decks
of the Craigavon Bridge.

They grabbed all sight
of the river,

trees,

carpark,

ground...

Heat gently rose up
filling the room.
Moisture trickled down my
window on the world.
I opened it
and put on a sweater.

I was a witness.

I thought of

time-lapse.

Then angles.

Then angels.

Then you...

 

 

 

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