top of page

Gregory Arena, one poem


UNTITLED

Our love is a temple.

I smell your perfume whilst you dress.

Still in bed I see your reflection

And your silhouette passing in the shadows.

You are a dream of a dream

Of a line verse

Forgotten in slumber.

Gregory Arena is 54 and lives in Bergamo in Northern Italy. When not writing or teaching he spends time with his wife and daughter or goes trekking, mountain-biking, and cross-country skiing. He has published a fair amount of short stories and poems in Small Press publications.


Recent Posts

See All

"Taking Liberties Out" by David Kozinski

The other night was a good one in the east when the rain stopped and I plant liberties  so I can pull them up like turnips again and...

Two poems by Mary Buchinger

In Babel Years   many hands  not the lightest of work  but side-by-side  group project  all in this together  pulley and lever  garden...

bottom of page