These memories are a pavement Going on uninterrupted for miles, Wet with the rain, beautiful from Afar and slippery when trodden. They are where I slip and fall each Night and where I awaken each Morning, getting myself up and Continuing to walk this sidewalk That goes on and on yet leads me Nowhere but back to us and, as We know, us is not something we Have Anymore. I think about that tonight as I walk.
About the Poet:
John Tustin is currently suffering in exile on the island of Elba but hopes to return to you soon. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.
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