Nearly

mist on the river
oars drag
long sigh

the old green pool
joy in your arms
you remember

dust over the plate
nearly made it

a sweet song
string bounce
line ball. yes!

mind slow
wish hangs
speed a flighted arrow

the crowd is no team
a big boxer
punch drunk

mettle shot
bursting the line
spent       fucked

Jill Jones

If you've any comments on this poem, Jill Jones would be pleased to hear from you.