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

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s