In the autumn of my madness
when my hair is turning grey
for the milk has finally curdled
and I've nothing left to say

When all my thoughts are spoken
(save my last departing birds)
bring all my friends unto me
and I'll strangle them with words

In the autumn of my madness
which in coming won't be long
for the nights are now much darker
and the daylight's not so strong

and the things which I believed in
are no longer quite enough
for the knowing is much harder
and the going's getting rough

(© Keith Reid)

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