was carried

Across the Atlantic Sea

Where now it stands

In the hand

of a statue called

Liberty.

□

Her friends moan

'She’s so lazy.'

All I can think about is her jet black hair, wild and messy.

Her half smiling cheeks sinking softly into a cosy pillow.

Her friend's curse her idleness.

I laugh with them.

Wondering if my smile,

hides my longing.

To be with her.

To lie under her covers.

To share her pillow.

To taste the wonderful colours

of her dreams.

□

State Of

Statelessness

□

Wouldn't let them in

So we said

Fuck It

and went somewhere better instead.

□

No-one left to teach me to listen.

I would sing but

the hills

would never sing back.

□