Evermore (Never the End, Edgar My Friend)

 ‘what you said over dinner, blew me away’

                                   in his dreams he thought you’d say

‘I want back in, all the above and past the dotted line,’

                                    in his fever he heavily scribed

‘I will change into a white feathered friend

                                     from Poe’s rapping pest that you see here’

(yet still you doubted all this chat of change was really he talking of pretend)

And with thoughts to kith and kin he plucked a charcoal quill from his breast

Imagining nought but what poetic dalliance he could take to you at your next behest

But suddenly the paper was sodden and bloody, and the chest pain felt not right

He had taken one too many feathers from himself in which to write

Morning turned to noon which flipped to evening and then onto night

And stuck part way through transformation, he was neither black nor white

But a muddy grey; a bleak ecru; not a colour but a shade of a former

Which then slowly turned mauve, then even redder, deeper, richer, warmer

Upon the ragged, wet rug the flightless scarlet bird lay

His dazed head still spinning with all the things he yet wanted to say

Words unspoken, lines unwritten, sentences so far and yet so near

So he started to recite in his head what you have read right here

Round and round and round his final tale doth go

Etc, Infinity, ad infinitum, forever, evermore…


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