APOLOGY
I guess I am not the hero
I guess I am not the prince
I guess I am not the first violin
at the opera house
though to you
I play with the same
clarity and volume,
I just can’t do it:
I am fire in rain
I am desert in snow
my fingers are long
though my hands
can not hold
and my eyes are
question marks
that only the gods
can answer
and you were perfect
but now
I have to go, again.
SOMETHING
We met in the hallway
made love under the stairs
slept with the doors open
and ate on the rooftop:
and years felt like days
and days like life.
Brenton Booth writes poetry and prose. He resides in Sydney, Australia. If you would like to read more of his stuff, Google his name.
