Tuesday, October 6, 2015

A Poem by Brenton Booth

Memories of Her

Mourning lost days like
the lonely streetlights
and all the tired faces
walking to unwanted
jobs they can't afford
to leave every day
the sounds always the same
like a familiar story
told again and again
or a song that no matter
how many times you hear
always makes you cry
or the vain sun
or the angry breeze
or the thawing snow
on the mountain tops
or the solitary pigeon
sitting on the window
all these things that
remind me of her
what she said
the way her hair sat
on her shoulders
the dreams we both
living like an immortal
that won't let go
in my tired mind
yelling when I am
talking complete sense
when I am confused
somber when I am
holding onto my heart
like all the sad beautiful
poems I once knew and
wished I'd written
but are now just a hazy
distorted memory to me
like her
and our time together.

Brenton Booth lives in Sydney, Australia.  Poetry and fiction of his has recently been printed in Chiron Review, Mas Tequila Review, Paper and Ink, Zombie Logic and Bold Monkey.  brentonbooth.weebly.com

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