Friday beneath the sky, its little postcards of melancholy Outside each window, the engines inside the roses at half speed, The huge page of the sea … - Charles Wright

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Friday beneath the sky, its little postcards of melancholy
Outside each window,
the engines inside the roses at half speed,
The huge page of the sea with its one word despair,
Fuchsia blossoms littered across the deck,
Unblotted tide pools of darkness beneath the ferns …
And still I go on looking,
match after match in the black air.