black sheep

clearing out the truths in my closet

                                   i find another.
amidst the chaos and the calm,

there drapes the dark woollen coat.

persistently promising to always be in vogue.

its length smiles at my older self

its warmth laughs at my latter days

its style larks at the former self

its size beams in my early age  

telling me its elegance is grasped

at a certain stage.
yet we are sheared

from the same black sheep.

spun from the same yarn.

cut from the same cloth.

the receipt kisses the grey

                          laminated wooden floors.

peeling the paper gently it reads

The Black Sheep Café

and my eyes envision the coffee

darker than my caffeine tears

and lighter than my milky fears

sweet sucrose stirs heat into a mug

and all lost boys and girls

find their way there

only for them to sit and stare

absorbing the fabrications

we built in our rented realm 

taking pictures of our dreams

and cheating prose as poetry.
baa baa black sheep, your wool is now a heap?  no world. no world. it’s not yours to keep.

Buy Rivers of Broken Waters here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Rivers-Broken-Water-Hannah-Williams/dp/B0CR4D1L3D

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