POEM

Rain no longer
teeming down the hillsides of my mind. I
thought you were too good to be untrue
thought you were too good to be unkind.

You thought you'd leave me
echoing letters full of regret
and poetry after you,
you waited no word came
and any laughter, dear,
it was on you.

Without you,
the sun pours through stained glass windows
like it always used to do.
Night times, I sing to keep myself company.
Strangely enough, the singing's in tune.

And mornings, I'm so happy. On the train
I feel somebody ought to tell the commuters that
if you set your alarm clocks too late
you'll never catch the dawn,
and if you set them too early
it will be dark
and you might get off at the wrong station.

E Cardell
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