A new poem, shared with dVerse.



SOLID GONE

‘Blue Train’ was blowing
out of an open window.

A warm wind lifted
the headlines compass west,

salt on its breath,
sunset in its hair.

I watched the last
ice cube melting in an

empty glass. You sighed
and paddled a finger

in the glass. You looked
up and sighed again

into a middle distance
somewhere over my shoulder.

“Done?” you murmured.
“All done”, I answered.

So you lifted back
your chair, stood up

and stretched and
looked along the

slow path down
towards the bridge.