Friday, 25 August 2017

Among the flowers of a chance encounter.


Among the flowers of a chance encounter.
A pleasant hello, no more. 
Then an oscillating ... don't I?
Know you? 
It is! And 

names explode from the dormant volcanoes
of the magma lakes of gold.
A kiss, and hugs float on 
where did all our years?

Remembered features, 
by feeling more than sight,
for almost sixty years have passed.
Must be! 
As smiling eyes swirl in memory.

The briefest coy girl boy before,
in no time the conversation flows.
Of where and when, did you and I,
take our different roads?

To arrive back at this point in time,
from a time when the lower branches
of our family trees, rubbed in the breeze,
when in pinafore dress, and short trousered knees,
we sat at our desks in line.

Is it a fool's gold we hold within our eyes,
that stare across the years?
How can the canyon of half a century 
be dismissed in a glance?

In a smile, so nice to have met you, and
we could talk and talk for ages.
You have read my book, you said,
and found yourself within the pages.

Well, today,
Marlene (nee Morgan) 
met again
James Young.
Not way back in Cwm junior school, 4A.
But arm in arm knee deep,
in the glorious flower beds of time.

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