December 30, 2014

In Old Hoboken

By sjlavery

The fold of the glasses,
during My Way.
The turning,
of a music manuscript.
An ill-filling wig,
and a voice quietly breaking.
Vintage wine from fine old kegs.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 30th, 2014 at 8:38 am and tagged with , , and posted in Hoboken New Jersey, Poetry, SJ Lavery. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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