Friday, 18 April 2014

Sky, Cloud, You...

I sit on a bench
in the lamp-post park
and make notes 
on the world.

Yellow jacket skaters
baby pram pushers
fence talkers 
and coffee cup whistlers
scoot along the path.

I write it all down:
how the hawthorns 
have almost fallen over,
how the dogs
fly into the open arms
of clouds,
and then I see

the long hair tied back
the gentle face of a lion
the eyes like water.

The women are calling:
Come on! This way! Come on!
But we sit on the bench
you and I 
and talk 
ten years worth of tales.

Old friend,
you stroll like a miracle
out of the shoe lacers 
and the rucksack joggers
out of this green painting
and into the day.

1 comment:

  1. Ah yes, I can see it clearly....miracle footsteps!