Forest Frost
The man I once was.
Lonely like a ghost, like a staircase bum.
Forest Frost
From the town of dead soldiers,
With deep underground car parks and pubs.
Forest Frost
Handsome man I once was.
Curly hair and a straight back,
Never kissed...... never loved…. never stabbed.
Had a good sense of humour….. had passion…. had lust
Forest Frost
Had some personal links with Proust and Degas
Forest Frost
Once in a while he’d engage with his loneliness
When on field trips to Far East, Australian wilderness.
Forest Frost from the town of dead soldiers.
Curly hair…. never dyed….. the straight back…. never scratched.
Was he dear? Was he the dearest to someone....... at last?