At the Margin (day 2842)

It is destruction that has collapsed
Sure it should seem rather redundant
But it was not as it should be
For there were no golden melodies
No silent tigers awaiting at the margin
Long arching stems of tropical plants
Waving ever so slightly in afternoon rain
Slipping noiselessly down the bank
Of misunderstood’s miss-planned and misspent
Margins gone away.

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