The Waste Which is of Three Wishes

by

Adam Gosha

I wish to be a poet as a lovely
family sits nearby, already decaying
enjoying their dinner in a silent booth. A young
couple of fifty years leaves together
not holding hands, bodies of ash spent
as their dead cigarettes. I sip my
coffee wishing to be a poet, I
wish to live a poet. The corner
conversations are only daydreams, blind daydreams
to be forgotten as their last murdered
fly. I finish my third cigarette,
one for each family come and gone,
now waiting alone for another glance at
humanity, while van Gogh paints a
path I wish to die a poet.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Oh to be in love (re-write)
by: Joyce Hemsley
from: Sunderland, England, UK

To visit all of Adam Gosha's poems, click HERE

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