A Wreath Never Given  - Marc Day

This was written the same day, and for the same reasons, as Sure.

Close comfort so cold
In the mind of the young
As innocence whispers
In tormented tongue
To pacify anger
To melt in the fire
Of habit, not reason
No need, but desire
No journey but trials
As the searching defiles
All the beauty of chance
Leaves the watcher askance
At the human result
Seeming chemical chain
Psychological urges
Rear back up again

Rich Harding, 1993 (19th October)