My world is drunk
With memory
But behind
The dank green
Of its fallen leaves
The heart always sobers
With no roof up above
And no love down below
These thoughts are but stars
To leave to their wheel
Walking onwards alone
I laugh at nothing
Eternity circles
Cleave yonder from blue
J H Martin is from London, England but has no fixed abode. His writing has appeared in a number of places in Asia, Europe and the Americas.
Website: acoatforamonkey.wordpress.com