Lost Time

By on Mar 22, 2015 in Featured, Poetry

Sparrow on an icy branch

So at some point
you start to notice the difference

that makes this single;
a sparrow on a fallen wall,

the first change of glass
to drops of water,

loam broken from under
in a garden’s warmer corner.

You start to hold the finite
a coin minted and shaped,

held for a last time,
then spent as your body;

the past like the hidden part
of an iceberg; lost in blue.


Leslie Philibert is a social worker from London. After studying English literature at the University of Coleraine, he now lives in Germany. He has published work in the United States in magazines and has also done some translating for theatre groups in Bavaria. He is married with two children.