Tony Bush Poet Verse

Autumnal Eyes

Stargazing cigarette ash, growing cold and greyer, 
shaping to a scale model Everest 
in a cut crystal tray; 
a mountain to be climbed by some quantity surveyor, 
or a podium of passiveness 
in cloudbursts of dismay. 

So the goalposts shift and arbitrarily blur 
this disenchanted evening 
of poetry stricken with slow motion; 
although older, but no wiser, as the host of echoes stir 
past beliefs in grim stagnation, 
drained of glister and devotion. 

I can taste the realisation of dysfunctional reality, 
that between this life and death 
love is but a compromise; 
in every mirrored surface to confront the actuality, 
the ever present deadlight hue 
of Autumn in my eyes.

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