Roger Houston

May 22nd, 2017, Lord Byron

Apartments ….. We serve our watch in silence. Boy and I.
We breathe away the hours. Quietly. South of the One-o-one.
I hear it pass. It’s barely audible beyond the glass.
St-Remy. Mixed with water. It’s enough. To bring me to
submission. Call my bluff. The early morning silence. Takes
me back. To ancient times. Was planning an attack. Survival
was so stubborn. Was the stuff. Of legend. To a youngster.
Took a puff. To counter the insomnia. The gas. Is filling up
the room. The Sunday mass. Makes way for Mondays June. To
have a try. A brand new month. It’s too soon to deny …..

Roger Houston

Categories: Poetry

Leave a Reply