A Garden of Halves

I sit beneath the magpie sky

Of rooftop wars

In a garden of halves:

The shadow, the sun

The summer, the autumn

A memory, a future

A hope, a fear

A dream, a scheme.

Days slide by in time

And the magpies shout

And call their war

Across the twilight skies

Of stolen silver.

What will be must be:

I must be me.