In passing

for Peter

    by Dennis Greene

Sunlight moves shadows in this quiet room,

touches the wall, the counterpane, the carpet.

Softly a door shuts and a voice falls silent,

softly a bird sings, just one note, repeated.

Goodbye, if said, would tear its world apart;

you touch my hand then turn your face away,

to watch as sunlight slips through winter’s windows,

and wait while time and colour fade to grey.

© 2009 Dennis Greene

Born in Britain, raised in Zimbabwe, Dennis Greene has lived in Western Australia for the last 28 years.  Diagnosed with Parkinson's at the age of 37 he took the opportunity to 'follow his bliss' and began writing.  In 2000 he was invited to the United States to edit "Voices from the Parking Lot -Parkinson's perspectives."  For reasons he can't quite figure his poetry never mentions PD and his prose is about nothing else.