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