I’m perfectly insane,
or imperfectly sane,
dependant on the time
or the shade of the day.
Eyes grey and clear
are diluted with fine tears,
blurring emotion
and all of those things that I fear.
Clouds cast blue gloom
as matches strike dark rooms.
I can’t raise my chin from my chest
Or my focus from my tomb.
Sullenly I weep
at a statue’s gleaming marble feet.
Cold, I am burning
and covered in sleet.
Achingly with a shake
I am jolted awake
as a ray of light warms me
and this thick frost finally breaks.
Soothing winter sunshine
unwraps these bloodied eyes of mine
and kisses my chapped lips
for the very first time.
All my old aches have now fallen away
and in the light of this newest of new days
my heart finally ticks, a tock,
and a smile, is all that I can say.
Book of Pye 