Matching poem for my new neighbour to the west, inviting him over for wine
your poem arrives, unworn words
despite a hundred recitations
new love, in each line –
pure as gold
Westering
my mind climbs the fence
too much long-distance gazing,
my heart might turn to stone
the River of Stars divides lovers
I look up and sigh
dreams of the southlands have passed,
the zither sits unplayed
only longing for home
grows in winter soils
cold nights, good wine –
a waste to pour for one
Please Register or Login
Register now for full access to News and Events, Web Exclusives, Blogs and Comments.
If you've already registered, please login.