Stop the clocks!

From a few exchanged words, this poet unwittingly created something unexpected and apparently powerful. For the recipient of one of my poems to cry in response was very humbling. After many wilderness years, I slowly started believing in my writing gift.


Outside my old apartment window
all St Petersburg is smudged with snow,
I have no money – there’s nowhere to go.

College friends soon will come,
temporarily I will forget all glum –
hear my heart and mind happily hum.

I will make my room cosy and nice,
I dust and polish everything once, or twice,
I welcome friends – our spirits splice.

Hiding under a blanket i spread,
we’ll lazily lounge on my welcoming bed,
our loud goth music wakes even the dead.

A canopied universe, exclusively ours:
we make the rules, we hold all powers,
we talk and laugh, we listen for hours.

Drinking warm tea out of shared mugs,
opening souls, exchanging hugs –
who the hell needs drink or drugs.

These my few treasured friends,
these my siblings, i happily pretend;
stop the clocks, may this never end.



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