#poem #poetry #amwriting sketchbook on the wall

on the wall

moss extrudes from the glisten'd stones
valuing the nourishment of sand and cement
long since dried to proto-rock
or I think it is moss for on closer inspection
it becomes apparent of more
life and variety
than in the wine bar next door

'actually apparently I think I agree'
he says - pouring the last of the chardonnay -
borishly dressed in a party patched shirt
of pink and mauve with white sleeves

her hair heat straightened hair
cut severe at the fringe
dismisses his assertion caught on the wind
she signals the waiter to bring
more wine
for her pale pink stained glass

here in the moss are stars and buds
fronds tremble brown and gold
on the peaks of the rock face
lichen expamds
in clusters of dimpled white

The Blue Book