Tuesday, 3 September 2013

Like you and me,

Andrew’s growing old
but two fine eyes
(mischievous, bold)
continue to soften my arrogance, pride.

Seasons have turned
red, golden, green,
birthdays have burned;
places we’ve been.

Give me your hand;
what do you need?

There he stands,
how to proceed?

We need a decision some time soon;
retreat or advance, run for cover, Return.

No comments:

Post a Comment