Mirror of time is a portal above my bed:
Yesterday seemed shrouded in shadows
until Tomorrow poked its head from behind lush meadows.
Joy manifest itself in all things shared,
pain seeped in when no one cared.
Now, past and present collide in a mix of colour
like falling pots of paint off a jack-knifed truck;
nothing makes it to destination, life gone cold,
the road ahead is bleak, tasteless, beyond luck,
Local Council By-Elections April 2017
5 hours ago