We sat in the garden with
The pink grey clouds
Of evening overhead and
Cracked slabs below,
The grill embers glowing.
With full stomachs we
Kicked back and talked shit,
Me listening to stories
Of cheese and bonsai, of
Tattoos, bikes and dead hens.
After, we drank weissbier and
Smoked Paolo's weed,
Laughing about the old days
As Plant howled 'It's
Nobody's fault but mine.'
And when I thought
About that, and as I listened
To them talk, I missed her,
And I missed you more,
And I wondered if it was
Really true and, deciding
It probably was, I wondered
If you would still hold me.
July 2016 (E)
YOU ARE READING
Fragments And Reflections
PoetryPoems looking at everything and anything not in my other collections. Here you'll find life and time, wild oceans and lonely coast paths, busy streets and empty hotel rooms, wild concerts and late night writing. All just fragments and reflections, l...
