Why do I play Old Blue Eyes
after all the wine has gone?Why do I yearn for that
zoot-suit and shiny big-band song?The twists of the road,
Manhattan crashes,as if I looked down from a height -
what a Liberty - in all her sashes -treading a road of air
John F. Kennedy says is clear.My dear,
only fear is to fear;let's go there
through sunset,catch the 'Sonic Star',
let the moth from the jar,roll back old dusk's carpet,
drink up the daylight
and land where new dawn shall begin,on the Mach 3 flight
to outrun the night.We'll book into a Gaudi hotel;
it'll be swellin Barcelona -
never alone again.
YOU ARE READING
Wintering
PoetryIt's yet another MajorSeventh. Hop on the big shoulders and look ... Lastest poems are always posted last in my collections. Winter. So, expect sparse gardens, late autumn and wintry countryside, wry philosophy and humour, tenderness towards litt...