Sinking feelings float to the top
dead leaves on wet concrete
darkening days grow short as
buried memories
rise in the gorge
and now and here I stand
facing old clipped
truths and new bitter lies
as unknown friends live in darkness
and nearby drones snarl in the red skies
pick fights ruin lives
here the bread is good
while at home strange diseases
curdle and triumph.



– Diane Sophrin
  Budapest  (11.7.22)


click here to open in PDF format