The rain falls soft, on an empty place
sat on a Spring cill of adolescence
far too
far too long into Autumn
are those clouds building?
legs swung over an unknown
the wasted knees numbing
come in
from time to time
join us
muffled bleats. drawn glass. steamed
cling film skin and flounder eyes
lines too deep to fill or cover
turn, knuckle the stone
the sun slips behind the wishing post
maybe it starts to rain, softly
all below lost in shadow
unknown, appropriate