She reminded me of women, I used to see as a child, at family gatherings. Tired, not quite steady,
There’s not enough time, Not for seeing the world, no no But feeling alive, To hold your friend when they weep… For being in a hole,
I couldn’t think, of anything worse. From the outside, Looking in. Draining your soul away,
Etched, in the valleys of the moon, staring from or to. Blazing the night, The autumn heat returns,
Shackled to a yearning, Dripping face chin to the earth, Not buried yet, Nor glum nor trite, Earths pleasures,
To sin enough, is to sin forever, shine dull nor pure, but fear!, fear the end. Does it end after night, or at the end of the day!
The port city and it’s secrets, The Sicilians drapes hung in the… The ghosts beyond the limestone wa… The sad holy brush of James Walsh… The sanctity of the unknown,
We are like pebbles on a beach. Brought by the tide, yet not born from it. Sitting, and waiting,
It takes balls, hell, it takes every inch, to keep spinning. To talk of flowers, or the death,
I remember youth and senses, the smell and touch. Fascinated by breathing, in and out. Sunday walks,
It’s the end of winter, The sun has migrated, Finally full circle, The weeks are the same though, sti… as I drive home,
My heart stings tonight. I’ll remember your incredible mind… piercing blue eyes, that laughed and danced, as you told jokes,
My father talked often, of what went wrong, who his father was, Who he is as a father, Long drawn out conversations,
I look out over the expanse of the… the lights forever glisten, gauging the distance between every… in houses with cutlery now clinkin… 7pm and maybe conversations.
A drink. A sip. I sip you and you sink me. The empty bottle, is the saddest sight.