On this day, my eyebrows seemed to thicken,
and mists hung lazily in the morning.
The pathways of logic were overgrown
with the grey dust fallen from empty days.
On this day, thoughts waited for some future
when they may fling sharp colours through the haze
to explode in the brightness of the day.
On this day, memories were dissolving
and time pulled on the harness of events.
Such luxury! where words are the only
comfort as the shrapnel flies its killing
course and savagery stalks distant streets.