Andy Brookes Poems
Comments about Andy Brookes
Loss is not the first stab,
Nor the numbness that follows.
Loss is not the nights after,
Nor the tears shed heavily into pillows.
Loss is coming home full of news,
Only to find an empty house.
To set the table for two,
Or turn to speak to vacant air,
Forgetful your not there.
Loss is to laugh alone.
So What New?
the day startsclean and fresh sunlight dapples
chiaroscuro playing with light and shade.
every day's a clean page white and pure
waiting for the indelible marks of life
unmarred, likefresh fallensnow before footprints mar its beauty
to leave it stained pummeled to a slushy grey.
yesterday's mistakes can be learnt from
but not erased, as much as we may want them to be.