Go to End


The sessions of youthful places

Will linger in memory

Remaining inaccessible

Until they eventually expire.


They fade like distant places

Or leaves turned yellowy,

The invisible companions

That conspire against us.


As through a stained pane

Imperfectly perceived

The still remnant shame

Supplicates our presence

With desire.


Wandering nights in vapid streets

Between orange beacons of solace

Between fathoms unfathomable

To divination impregnable

Or stone-grey by day,

They can be felt, not touched,

As they slip, with life, away.



Facebook Me Me on Twitter YouTube

Go to top

You're at the bottom!