top of page
As the cold builds its weight
and piles itself high,
the last leaf falls
skates the pale air
to find the coast
and her hum
our shared tables get shorter and smaller,
but we linger longer around them
sharing out the drops.
Love can’t dilute
but it does concentrate,
and though our bare upper branches
cast severe limbs against the sky
at least we can see it.
To dwell to long
is defeat in these winters.
So burn all the heirlooms for warmth,
we can go out and make our own.
Image created for 'Spitalfield Sirens', a project created by Fritha Lewin, in which images were created to be wearable stories, printed on silk scarves and packaged as books.
The poem 'Marseille' was written by
bottom of page