BOGONG POETRY PAGES


COAST OF SOLITARY

We sit like waiting islands
Awash in a human sea
Waiting for a word, a look,
Waiting for the fee.
Each table forms the shoreline
The coast of solitary,
And bound within one occupant,
Mirror image me.

We sit with fondled coffee cups,
Bravely taking pleasure
In all the neighbouring dramas
That clearly show the measure,
How meagre is our portion,
How fragile is the treasure,
Of fleeting human touch and warmth,
How intimate this shy leisure.

Virgo



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"Francy's Sprites"