For a while, during the spring
wine held my refuge, was my only friend
then when the money came to an end
I was glad of the summer,
and of the sun, what little sun there was;
June winds to warm and wet me
in the long June grass.

Now in this other season
and under colder skies
I sit and stir these few red embers
sitting so close that the heat
brings tears to my eyes
for no good reason

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...