The Strike That Never Happened
They froze with the dawn
the sand hills silent
the motionless sea
mirror like the waters reflected the pain
of a static day
They froze with the dawn
and the fountain of light
became a portrait of nothing
framed by a secret hope
emptiness wandered alone on a static day
The pink light of the skies remained pink,
and the silhouettes of towers of scarpers and domes
remained silhouettes
all awaited your coming
and you did not come
only the tombstones breathed on that static day.
