Harlequin Solstice
St John Kin
A picture in the fading sun
A race of fingers, digits
Of Solstice long earned
Short departed
➰
How little
How sadly
You are understood
Your music the struggle
Of madness
Made harmony
➰
Until this moment
When kings detach your strings
When single song
Descends
Towards the dark arms
But brighter eyes
Of St Stephen
➰
©Stephen Tanham