The night bus stop.
Waiting in the corner.
Smoke rises from my cigarette.
“Are you waiting for the 94?”
I shake my head.
Waiting in the corner.
Smoke rises from my cigarette.
“Are you waiting for the 94?”
I shake my head.
A diverse collection of poems I like.
If, gracious God, in life’s green ardent year,
A thousand times thy patient love I tried;
With reckless heart, with conscience hard and sear,
Thy gifts perverted, and thy power defied!