white Road
There hasn't been a sound through
Colours that are dripping
make us hysterical
But as I go as I must do
Round the heath
The stunning Whales of August
In Coves of neon
His dreaming
His stares are worn
and they creak
They complain when I come
and talk when I go
Fresh coffee and oranges
and almond cakes
I am momentary gone
Colours that are dripping
I think of you in Greece
Copyright © Antony Glaser | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment