The Sharpest of Knives – Written Sunday 20th January 2008 (Aged 32)

The Sharpest of Knives

there is joy
but right now
it is far away
friends seem sad
with little to say
clouds of black
skies of grey
the stresses and strains
of our lives
it is only matched
by the sharpest of knives
why does it go wrong
all at once?
stuck in the same boat
that has almost sunk
when we were young
we were so different
a kiss and a cuddle
and the occasional flirt
now it is high winds
up here on the ledge
as we precariously perch

James Garratt – Sunday 20th January 2008

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More poems from 2008

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