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The laugh of the seagulls echoes in the sodium light of a street lamp,
one hundred miles from the coast.
Half a world away, the Aurora Borealis explodes like a firecracker
across the coast of Nova Scotia.
The piper plays a centuries old lament,
caught somewhere between the concrete and the abstract.

In its wintry despair the sea shares it secrets.
The clouds cry in torrents of rain and hail.
A distant nebulae lights the way home
For anybody who might be lost,
Who does not know the price,
Or how to pay back the cost.

The year is reaching its natural end,
I don't know what we will become, my friend.
I can't make promises we know we can't keep.
We can't be expected to pay, the cost is too steep.

Under a star-filled sky, under a dark crescent moon,
The seagulls still laugh,
and the Piper tries to sound sad in the Key of G major,
to play his heart through an improvised tune.

I see myself in the faces of people I used to know.
I watch the lights change, the shadows begin to grow,
And half a world away, Aurora Borealis explodes like a firecracker
across the coast of Nova Scotia.


After Ben Macnair was born in 1976 in Nottingham, and now resides in Staffordshire. He has been writing
creatively on and off for the last four or five years.  His poetry has appeared in Purple Patch, Raw Edge, and
various other small print publications, and was featured in the National Poetry Anthology for 2005, 2006, and
2008, 2009 and the forthcoming 2010. His Short Stories have appeared in Twisted Tongue, and in two Forward
Press Anthologies, whilst Journalism and reviews have appeared in Blues in Britain Magazine, Verbal Magazine,
and various local newspapers and The Independent.
 





  


Copyright 2009