Poetry of Tom Greggs
  • Poems 1
    • Fair For Any Bird
    • Untitled II
    • Old Photo / Black Luger
    • Stirrer of Seas
    • On The Stair
    • Red Delicious
    • The Occasional Poem
    • Emerging
    • Proper Use of the Scythe
    • Anemone
    • Hole in the Wall
    • Muddy Waters
    • Gauguin in Ketchikan
    • Red Tailed Hawk
    • Poet, Adjusted
    • April
  • Poems 2
    • Jack Straws
    • A Titanic
    • Unclothing
    • Counting Cop Cars
    • Cargo Cult
    • Island Bird
    • River Stones
    • Boy in Victory
    • The Difference Between Burying and Planting
    • Vietnam Memorial In Rain
    • How Relationships End
    • Clearing of the Land
    • Periwinkle
    • Surge Channel
    • An Artist Gives Birth
    • White Church in a Deep Field
  • Short Poems
    • Beach Cabin
    • Untitled
    • Short Poem 1
    • Drive Time Jazz
    • Road to Walla Walla
    • These Things
    • Short Poem 2
    • Short Poem 3
    • The Undulate
    • Short Poem 4
    • Living Twice
    • You-Me
  • Sock Drawer
    • Washaway Beach
    • A Splendid Christmas Corpse
    • Who Laid the Bone
    • Everybody's Packin'
    • She's the Next Best Thing
  • Contact Me




                                                        River Stones




                                            Losing my language they return 

                                            a word that's fallen to the ground


                                                      a photo from a memory book

                                            an old address that can't be found

                                            Living in shadows of their own

                                           they have forgotten same as I

                                           when we together side by side

                                           held one another arm in arm

                                           Time was the thing we had to share

                                           now boxed and stored below the stairs 

                                           or carried to the moving van

                                           For Sale sign posted on the lawn

                                           Kin turn into neighbors rarely seen 

                                           until the summer comes along

                                           then viewed through spaces in a fence

                                           familiar somehow in the eyes

                                           their noses shaped like mine

                                           I give away the things I owned

                                           my words once bright as river stones





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