Mansong

Poetry inspired by and written for MLM

30

You seem seven. Brown blond thatches a child’s rounded features, same hazel-green eyes show no shadow, addiction or age,

Another Photograph

This latest image turns hesitantly within my fingers as if you are newly born, not thirty-eight.

Arms and The Man

John’s scars mean more to me
Cherry

Soft

Your morning voice drifts serenely through my dreams I hear your thoughts and wonder where you are.

Maps

No atlas can direct me towards your destination.

Remembrance for July

I remember when the music exploded,

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

Why do you do this? Time and again rumours whisper,