The dank air seeps a chilly perspiration.
Theodore would always look back on the summers of his cubhood with that cosy, comfortable haze of fond nostalgia.
Colin has lost his appetite.
The Moonman gazes sadly down
This is Bub.
She’s a shimmer of iridescence
A sordid shadow steals across the gloaming.
A poem I wrote for my grandmother in 2014 following the death of my grandfather