Prose Header


by John Stocks

Somehow I knew that it would end in tears
This evening of wine and poetry
Laughter until last orders were called
When I walked home and saw the moon,
And two old men as lonely as ghosts
Stood ten feet apart by the wall.

Then a young girl quietly sobbing
With grief for love and loss,
As I struggled to find some change
And stumbled soused
Into the late goodnight,
The otherworldly light
Of the final Norton bus.

Copyright © 2010 by John Stocks

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