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Saturday 12 April 2014

The Prodigal Return

The prodigal return out of time, out of turn
Non-sequential, irrelevant.
The discordant note in the orchestra
A chisel accidentally slipping on a face

The clock has turned as have the seasons.
The cobwebs have died of old age.
The rust falls off gratefully in my palm.
 Of the door left ajar far too long.

The gratefulness had not come.
Prayers were not said
The wait was not over.
It had never been a deliberation.