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Time moves

like the tide

 

in my dreams

it’s yesterday,

 

I say ‘Hello’

for the first time.

 

You dance

across a room

 

so high, the ceiling

drops to meet you

 

I, with sapphires

in my eyes

 

turn & walk away,

for the first time.

 

Poems knocking

in my head

 

round & round

I wait;

 

did you ever say,

‘’I love you’’?

 

Time moves

sand & tide

 

an ebb & flow

of drama,

 

once so clear

it seems

 

I’ve lost

all answers,

 

but time & tide

& years

 

have brought

you back

 

this way,

 

calling out

my name

 

this last time.

 

Old men walk

the sands

 

heads bent

body shrunk

 

shoulder hunched

against the wind.

 

Skaters skirt

children’s

 

scooters

 

&  the foghorn

warns of sea mist:

 

ice cream stand

hand in hand

 

the ghosts pass

safe in their

 

chosen

paradigm.

 

I’m sleeping

messages

 

from

beyond,

 

& you go on

believing

 

you’re

immortal.

 

The dead come

to call:

 

looking spritely

they bring the best

 

of themselves

stay to talk,

 

the sort of things

one says in dreams.

 

Here, immersed

in life; corroded

 

by the years,

it seems

 

that death’s

a living dream

 

a time warp

of each reality

 

the Wurlitzer turns

its own obscurity.

 

The dead come

to call: they bring

 

messages:

 

‘’write them down

don’t forget

 

you are the words

you leave behind

 

in other’s heads’’.

 

They who are

released,

 

have their new

songs,

 

not remembered

nuance,

 

nor ecliptic tune,

 

but wisdom

dearly bought

 

from passing

through

 

that final

country.