Pink Gin
Watching from, back, a little His son, stood alone, hand resting on Black obsidian stone Afraid to ask the questions And have no answers A down pour covered his tears Shoulders shuddered from the cold, Regret, The unspoken moments Of an unfulfilled future They could no longer spend together finally joining him Pink gin in shot glasses One in the Earth Awkward embraces Our fragile existence Our friend gone. WAIT by James Lilley from Punk Noir Magazine A Quick-9 Interview with James Lilley (the boxing poet from Swansea) Poem by James Lilley : The Blue Hour in Fevers of the Mind Press Presents the Poets of 2020
Fevers of the Mind 