Getting On
Leaving the
bedroom door ajar
of dreams, spiralling
straight down
round the stair.
Seeing smells only birds hear
Tasting notes of a tune
being combed through bare trees
by the wind, remembering . . .
A wondrous naïvety!
Before knowing the names of colours
Unearthed pathways
on summer afternoons
Discovering newly found memories
opening dust-forgotten drawers.
A child’s tattered vest
Gale-blown rags
Hedge caught near a field gate.
Remembering . . .
They don’t make old countries
like they used to. |