by Tom Saer

Now I’m ready to remember
All those times in which we thought
We’d never see the light of day
My brothers, wrong we were to feel
That we’d forgotten what she taught
Now don’t be shy
Do we know how best to reel the fish in
From the northern sky?

In the downpour of my happiness
I felt a sudden chill
On one snowy winter’s evening
As a cloud of ears came walking
Looking for a seat to fill
No right of way
Says the lonesome little sign that’s propped
Against the bales of hay

All the flowers by the roadside
Surely tell you where to go
Tread the path of greying pebbles
As they lead away to empty towns
And country lanes of stone
Oh, who goes there?
It must be my remaining family
And the children at the stair

To culminate my travels there
I reached the candles’ end
They left me no redeeming message
But gave their final greeting
To the only lasting friend.

The morning air
Told me it was deeply happy, for
There were no lanterns there.

The Poor Print

Established in 2013, The Poor Print is the student-run newspaper of Oriel College, Oxford. Written by members of the JCR, MCR, SCR and staff, new issues are published fortnightly during term. Our current Executive Editors are Siddiq Islam and Jerric Chong.

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