White Horses

Our friendship seemed a tsunami,
Washing over the cracked debilitated rollers
We saw within the fading world each phase,
Crashing, foaming against the fray,
Erasing damaged mourning,
Our clandestine clan forming
Brethren beneath cobalt fires,

Was I the fool
For not seeing us as surface water?
That companionship fallaciously lapsed
To illustrate your truthful deceit?
All those bonds of brothers seem to drown
Within the fake wake of venal associations,
Alone I wait, treading water yet again,
Wondering, if friendship is a myth
More fickle than our memory.


Poem © Phen Weston 2014


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