As the night creeps through
a crack in the curtains.
I lift a bottle high once more,
take a last pull on my cigarette
and cast it to the ashtray
in a perfect semi-circle.
Yawning back through memories of her
peeling a pear in June
I blink myself into forgetfulness
and then turn to face
the comfortable side of the settee.
More at http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
