sadly, we understand
to be cautious of this beauty
nothing good ever came from nothing
sparkling firelight fanned
mesmerised by the smoky whispers
promises left strewn across a busy cemetery
sifting through the sand
for a rune to recognise consolation
in a sashaying skirt, wandering in traffic
where those memories still linger
you may find us, gin-soaked, waiting
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
How lovely, both of them
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Memories can be comforting or make us feel full of grief (or horror)–or gin-soaked.
Thanks for the link to my poem.
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