There is an opening in the mess that was her Dresden house, once, two days ago. Now the flames are gone, she sees the sky, still trembling in the heat. Some half burned pigeons shiver before dying, glorious day of victory has come. In grotesk embraces people lie; in the bathroom, where the toilet still remains, her neighbours became coal. She never knew they had pink tiles. It’s morning glow. The church does stand, for now, but god is dead and out-of-place. Her eyes take in for later to begrieve, she leaves the city to a newer horror phase, as she survived.
Together tired, longing for some rest
in turquoise rooms with yellow Autumn views
surrounded by the books that we love best
we dwell, with no TV, avoiding news.
Past ten it is, we maybe should get dressed
and put our pairs of Wellingtons to use,
but laziness is what we both do best,
forgetting all the world just as we choose.
This barking puppy comes, they get harassed,
it will not stop until they let it loose
outside, where nature tells them life is good.
There’s much outdoors that leaves them well impressed
not noticed by the herbinator, whose
inertia won’t take him in the wood.
Another attempt to do a Petrarchan sonnet. This time, I did the volta using a change of time, plus the “we” became “they” and “they” get into action. 🙂 so I hope I covered that perspective thing.