Plane

(Common senses)

We are constant beings
most of us,
steady of eye
of heart of custom
so we fear.
Memories gild
our lack of bravery,
those important
recollections
that keep us warm,
safely constant
and afraid.
We become friends
with fear,
clasp hands with death
itself, go quietly
resolved
but ever constant.


© Graham Sherwood 03/2015