the gulls cry
mournful
in the weak morning light
as they ride the warm wind
which buffets and blows
like a wistful virgin
unsure of her destination
occasional raindrops spatter
the small side window
through which they watch
the young life which exists
beyond these sacred walls
as they surround in warmth
the village of the elders
where those so blessed
await their expiry date
in climate controlled comfort
Copyright © 2011 by Eryll Oellermann
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