nostalgia ~ not all it was cracked up to have been
i remember
when nostalgia
was all i had left
past caring
i stopped just there
and turned back
the pages un-reading
the book’s end unraveling
it’s beginning beginning to show
how threadbare nostalgia is
not at all what i thought was was
or ever would be
but me crossing over
a zzz in the garden
many are the shapes of sunlight
in the ranges that curve the air
the sun is long over the yardarm
and i’m asleep in me garden chair
straw boater set at jaunty
the weather set long and fair
the bees are asleep in the foxgloves
and i’m asleep in me garden chair
the king
and the american president
are not afraid
fool’s gold rushes in
where angleterrs fear to tread
childhood ~ well i asked me
you name it
i killed it
my childhood
for the life of me
never again
so many things
we discovered and
filed away along the lines
of life’s magnetism
polarised
a remembrance
of wings on heels
grounded in the bog
between the ponds
of life’s spawn
gangs of kids
what was the attraction
that so propelled us
down our differing roads
on life’s journey
to the destinations of the past
the playground
fences vaulted
the containment of advice
spun off the roundabout and
the emotional swings we rode
the length of evening shadows
from alpha to omega
as unknown then as now
not one carefully placed foot
could pin time’s long demise
dressed in those shadows
the emperor’s new clothes are
but a shroud around the sunshine
that closes these old eyes
in the weight of expectations
unrequited
(actually i’m her human)
my hand u p o n my cat
gentles us back
to the dawn of time
our eyes close
the journey begins
slowly breathes slowly
sometimes we share a glance
sometimes a wink
always comes home again
always
a depiction of dereliction
where we were
there is no one there
(were we there at all)
not at all at all
over to you
over the fence
by the wall
leave me a note
sometime
opposites
poles apart
top and bottom
positive and negative
circumnavigate the one
and you’ll get to the other
attraction repels
repulsion attracts
the boat docks
and offloads departure
embarkation leaves a thought
poles apart our love is stretched
… you tell me yours
… and i’ll tell you mine
such a lot of it
about turn
