Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love
We are All Pretty Much Exiles, You Know
We are all pretty much exiles, you know
We scribble verse to reconstruct our home
That half-remembered never-seen mystery
Within our hearts, sailing beyond the stars
Half-worlds threading from chewed-yellow-pencil leads
The sharpener says, “Now this may sting a little”
As cedar spirals down to the kitchen floor
Poor pairs of rhymes that never find each other
They’ve gone and closed the Main Street picture show
We are all pretty much exiles, you know
