There’s remnants that are surely you
like voices in the dark
in the form of memories
spoken at irregular intervals.

The turning seasons and the thoughts
have never been so at odds,
like the leaves budding
but my mind about to shed.

The days, the nights, togetherness, separation,
merge together in one neutered band
that surrounds but will not level with me,
keeps the substance to itself

but intimates that
the one way forward
is a conundrum of bleak interiors
where I must henceforth live alone.

©2018 John Grey

Follow John

Bio:

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in the Homestead Review, Poetry East and Columbia Review with work upcoming in Harpur Palate, the Hawaii Review and North Dakota Quarterly.