“Blakemores”
On January 11th
we met again
and walked through the winter
to warmth.
Sat upon concrete and
rain spat in our faces
eating greased chips
at sub zero temperatures
The cold was as if
steel had penetrated our bodies
Your hair sat uncomfortably
abused by the breeze
I thought of our future
I feared you would not be in it.
04-01-01
home | reviews | rants | poems | writings | trivia | news | links | about mark |
© copyright Mark Reed, 1991-2002 except where indicated