Win Gray Poems

I have a friend who is a lover of dogs
She snuggles up to my barking lad
And gently massages his underbelly
Feeling loved, he wags his tail and softly whines
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Death is unkind and cruel
It steals the joy from our lives and brings sorrow
It takes away the comfort of love and companionship
It leaves us standing in sinking sand
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Sunset coming from Port Antonio is breathtaking
More beautiful than the colours of the rainbow
The array of colourful hidden wonders
In the shades of golden orange, white, grey and blue
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In the obituary
I saw death
For those who have passed on before me
Without successors for a name that has died
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Indian man makes himself visible at dusk
When the sun sets behind the hills
He invites the world to witness his existence
As he eerily opens the creaking board door of his one-room shack
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For the many lonesome days I spent disguising my depression with a smile
Concealing the chilling truth of my self-inflicted scars
I wish I could cry
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Old man Stanny was as old as Rome
He told us he was once a rover
And that he had a woman as beautiful as Mona Lisa
A Delilah, who he left him for Uncle Sam
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I know what joy is
I feel it in my bones
It’s enthusiasm
It’s laughter
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He was skin and bones when I last saw him
And to think he used to have flesh
The sight of his ribs, good God, his ribs
He was no longer a man but a breathing corpse
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I met a man by the lake
He smelt like rum and cake
He walked over to me and introduced himself as Mister
I surmised he was a drifter
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