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Feb 2017
The flags unfurled fly gloriously.
Tipsy barmaids fill the empty glasses
gleaming in the publight, frothy with beer foam
dripping from the fine-ground edges as I drink.
Where is yesterday? As lost as week-old flowers?
And regret that turns out pockets ā€“ is he gone as well?

I hear the flags flap grandly.
Cannons boom across the brimming beer.
A girl as young as any takes my arm
lifting me to the resurrection.
Voices mirror sounds
as soft as fish vā€™s in still water.
an early poem reprinted in "Poems People Liked (2)"
Jonathan Finch
Written by
Jonathan Finch  Thailand
(Thailand)   
363
 
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