Too Soon

Trees still as statues

On carpets of grass.

Air barely moving

And flowers like glass.

 

A world scarcely breathing,

A moment serene.

In the silence, a healing,

An unceasing dream.

 

Then out of the aching

Blue dome up above,

The city descends

Like the slap of a glove,

 

Shoving the statues

And breaking the glass

And, far too soon,

This Eden must pass.

 

Stephen Tomkins
19/2/19
Perth

 

 

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Music on the Radio

Highway traffic, moving slow.

No way round it, don’tcha know?

Music on the radio,

Won’t you make the traffic go?

 

Interrupting urgent ads,

Saving me from useless fads,

Music on the radio,

Can’t you make the traffic flow?

 

Fervent preaching sermonising,

Commentators patronising.

Music on the radio –

I know, I know, I know.

 

In the mornings, afternoons,

Endless talk by paid buffoons.

Music on the radio,

Please just make the workday go.

 

Stephen Tomkins
15 March 2019
Singapore