Marion Angus

A Small Thing

‘A hurt so small,’

Say you,

‘A thread of grey

On blue,

So slight a thing

Less than a wild rose sting

Nothing at all.’

And yet,

When thrushes call,

Or winds awake

And sigh – and sink –

And fall –

Into the evening’s grey

I think –

And think

This small heartbreak

Will wear my life away