Monday, 19 June 2017

Hazy daisy days


Hazy daisy days

Remember the days when the doors were opened and the fresh air flooded in?

When the coal fire lay exhausted, and the thin curtains barely stirred.

When the privet flowers walked right in, and lay upon the bed,

and the conversation moths swarmed across the hedge,

as we slid down along the waiting, wanting thoughts, 

that were cooling in the air. 

The night has returned home,

setting golden childhoods aspic in a medication rare,

waiting o'er the long years, now melting for we are there,

throwing back the comfort blanket from the old man in his chair.

Away he flows back down the times with aspic tiered eyes,

falling, and falling, falling, into a long embrace,

where the privet moths are bow tie dancing in the air,

to pick up on the conversation, with a small boy playing there.

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