FINAL FREEDOM

Is it, and must it be, an outpouring of emotion

An undeclared battle between head and heart

And yet there’s always room left for metaphor



which day will dawn

IT MUST BE TRUE

Believe me, nobody knows the truth

That’s nonsense what they call proof

So there is no point in looking aloof

The post office door closed firm  in a boisterous squeak as the employees departed sullen and sulky,  on this  fatalistic day with no reverse rescue volte face on even the dimmest horizon. 

Hypnotic treasure,

 Christmas reindeer coterie that  cast wide charm,