The unsaid

Photo by Jill Dimond on Unsplash

Wind cuts through this January night
Slices like a knife through my meagre clothes.
Signs on the road hidden by an iron fog
The cry of the wind is all in vain
Nothing is the same.

I kiss you across this black hole in time.
In the old be-jewelled spider-webbed
Way we kissed tender to kiss long,
Frost-filled graveyard-remains
For the…

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John E Marks

John E Marks

506 Followers

I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can