Passage of days The passage of days removes the blur From in front of tired, aging eyes, Like sun’s ascent in plum morning skies, Slicing wet mist as sleepers stir. I dreamt until eternal rest was close, Lifted by fleeting moments of joy, Ephemeral bliss, times of a boy Once green, doing as he chose, Laughing often, but ever prone To troughs between each smile. But boyhood won’t return. Meanwhile, With old eyes, I see I exist alone. The glare of isolation blinds most When moments of love conclude, And my train heads to the coast Where I ferment in solitude.
John is a graduate student and poet hobbyist from northern New Jersey. Influenced by Philip Larkin and many of his contemporaries, his work employs stark imagery, observation, and accessible language to explore themes of impermanence and loss. John is a fervent believer in the timelessness of rhyming poetry, and, on an unrelated note, enjoys one cup of coffee per week.
Grand Little Things 