Archive for the John Grey Category

BRIEFS by John Grey

Posted in John Grey with tags on November 25, 2012 by Scot

To think these lilies
won’t be here come morning.
From my window,
I watch them
flutter in the cool breeze,
their white throats
glare in full-moon light.

In the corner
of the coffee shop,
a young girl gets up to leave,
closes book,
Neruda I think,
one last quick sip of
coffee, the color of
the long brown hair
I’ve been sipping slowly.

Shooting star
crosses the sky,
n eye film
between two blinks.

Face in a train window,
melody on my tongue,
gone before my memory can name it,
a glimpse of something fawn
in the brush…
like all brevity,
there’s nothing to it
but for me.