On this day of a Hung Parliament
Inside I lament
Thoughts should be of Parliamentary strife
Has time passed to ease pain?
Cold truth of mirror searched for resemblance
A hint of you
Behind these grey eyes blue
In each a word reflected instead; Why you?
The sun’s stillness heats
A calm before salty storm weeps
Should fists be beating on the floor?
Should locks bar tight that open door?
Pink fingernails torment
Remembering translucent ones of bearer fair,
Circle of pearls and gold encase a lock of beloved hair
Reminiscent mourning of Empress of India.
From finger to toe
I am the same through and through
Stick of rock cut open to reveal a message
I am lost without you.