The Clouded Door



The soldier, standing at the clouded door,

Leaves behind war;

The cloaked accumulator lies

And sleeps, and will not rise,

So all the jumble of coins, crowns, rings

By sparkling springs

Flood bay and channel till all the bay is gold

And golden fish with glittering wings

Beat the cold air and it remains untold,

Except by the soldier who dies,

That life’s no more

But glittering water through the door.



Copyright Simon Banks 2012

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