Saturday, May 28, 2005

Fitzgerald Number One - Still Going


A star sung for each soreness, a song shone for each pain


In this sky bruised and black; dark and arcane
Shot full of lightening, in a bright sudden vein

The waiting air shudders, tight and pregnant with strain
Finally thunder erupts - a crashing refrain
In an hushed, indrawn breath . . . at last . . . comes the rain

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