'ai.oʊ

frost bitten land, leads to Montauks steel gaze;
two doves the same,
in ideal and in grain.

loves lost memories
whistle and shout
to the bitter youth
who sit and destroy
all of yesterdays parties.

love lost and lost, and
lost again;
memories the same,
tenaciously sprout --
like winters long doubt.

cyclical red bouquets
find you in Montauk
and chase you about...

now; the doves old and worn,
hand in hand,
walk through loves bygone land;
down to Montauk, and
the snow white land whispers
memories of yesterday.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed