Pathetic Fallacy

While Time's been brooming away

the sooty clouds, which

scuttle and whistle like cobwebs,


I've had little Time in my hand

and I've wasted a lot of him


as his hours melt and pool

in delicate rings on my kneecaps,


wasted him with

lazily delirious daydreams of you.


“The sky is so pretty”

says mother


and in a way she's right

but it's not as pretty as you.


The sun is peeping between

the gap in the clouds,


like a child peering out

from behind the ugly curtain.


And although she is rather endearing,

I can't help but think of



twisting inky hair

and that charming crease between your eyebrows.