Disenchantment hovers
In the night;
A grey bat that flits
On leathern wings
Across the sodden fields of memory.
What can assuage the guilt
That rushes like a rip-tide
Flinging forgotten flotsam
Onto the stony shore of my mind.
I don't know -
But I'll have to leave it there 'cos I'm off down the pub.
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