Monday, 9 August 2010


Your shadows haunt

Our parties.

Darkening lips and faces,

Staining the walls.

Sometimes I stray so close

To your new home,

But pause.

You reach out

As I waver on the doorstep,

And stroke my cheek.

Your dead fingers

Still feel so warm.


I miss you all.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Say what you want.