• P. G.


Updated: Jun 12, 2021

A poem by P. G.

Memories float on, saccharine, like warm eighth notes,

They tease my fingers

as I reach, reach, reach stretching and straining to you, the great beyond, chaos.

You loved red velvet in lace, love, or on a cake lined with fiery stars

that keep you yearning

oh, that great danger, that old sin to hope or to love

how foolish are we! how stupid were we once?

how we covet youth now

while the world laughs and shakes and twirls and pulsates

on the street corner

reading: Weathervane [right over there, yes, that one], that was my home once.


Cover art source

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