Wine On The Porch

The sky is dying flame.
Let’s whisper its virtues on the porch.
No sob stories, no regret
Not with what we have accomplished.

The willful child is now a comely wife.
The rat of a kid is like the sun,
a huge face and grinning yellow.
We are welcome in each other’s eyes, .. ,

Dusk was made for reflection.
The clink of glasses likewise. .
The world shimmers in a bottle of claret –
the uncorking of wine, the unleashing of familiarity:.

Written by

3   Posts

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, "Leaves On Pages" and "Memory Outside The Head" are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Lana Turner and International Poetry Review.
View All Posts