Graham Stone Poems
Comments about Graham Stone
The Regret Of Regretting
only now does the sun come,
Only now do the scales melt
From my hand
Like gleaming frost in the morning light
Perhaps now, when it does not matter,
Can I stand.
How The Light Gets In
(Acknowledgment of a Faceless Angst)
The sky wallows through a broken blue,
Bruised only by the silhouettes of hanging clouds,
Which sit so sad along the night’s fading breath,
In whispered rasps of rattled death,
That provides the earth a squally shroud.
How the light gets in, I do not know.