pram
crooked tiles
The sky keeps on weeping The sun is sleeping Don't wake the moon The light would show the cracks in her face  The earth on its ancient last legs Wobbles round the sun Like a drunk around a lamp post And I shut my mouth sore from cursing And my eyes that are tired of seeing  If I could shake off this feeling Of being guilty for living Of never doing what others wanted Of simply being inconvenient  Then suddenly the sun could warm me To the marrow of my skeleton My mind could ride the breezes Hover and flutter in the cold air