Days go by.    How terrible is time    Too
much or too little     both can be killers
In the house that Jack built we try to take
time in our stride
                 I lie in bed and watch
Patsy dress    I tell her she’s got the body
of an angel        “You just going to lie
there?” she smiles, “haven’t you got work to do?”
Out on the street a small dog is yapping.
Dog days.     Can feel the dust coating the back
of my throat
              Grace to be alive      to read
Apollinaire     his sad but beautiful
Poems to Lou :  he turned everything
into writing     Dark night  :  shells exploding
over the Western Front
                              Time gentlemen

John Lyons