No spirals of smoke rising from the roofs
no women were up, preparing barley porridge,
or baking flatbread.
No wine to wash your mind....
The sun set in a blaze of glory
staining the sky beautiful shades of pinks and reds.
The narrow gap, a thin beam of sunlight, woke me up.
Stories that have travelled all the way
being twisted and distorted with each telling.
Reliable as the ramblings of a drunk who pops up a bar.
Funny, not to be believed.