“SUMMER HOLIDAY” 9 Sept 96

Your silence
the air crackles with fear
brown and clumps of grassy knoll
arms hang limply
at Auschwitz sides
No breeze. No birds. Nothing at all.

Your pilgrimmage ends here
a deserted railway line. A shower hall.
Over grown with pale grass
a silent coach,
a mountain of reading glasses.
This is your Summer Holiday.

home | reviews | rants | poems | writings | trivia | news | links | about mark |

© copyright Mark Reed, 1991-2002 except where indicated

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1