I’m over this

under that

between continents.

I’m immune to the moment

eyes scan for colour

birds are too loud

wake me from my dreams.

I’m lost.

Inspiration fled.

River floods & flows

beyond the garden wall

white whipped water

rushing.

The garden arises in disarray

I take each moment and hold it

precariously

I’m a feather floating through

eternity

weightless.

Today Barbault’s basket disperses

leaving us stranded where we should be;

bells clanging from the church & in my head

a thousand years of history at my feet.

Open the door to the other side of dreams,

a white lizard rises from my bed leaving

tracks across the silk pillow:

politicians bite the dust & become their

own weapon of mass destruction

Canigule brings waves of heat to melt the tarmac.

Here we are exactly where we land

shifting into another day of fleeting feelings.

The same & not the same,

already long past our, ‘Sell by’ date.

If only I’d known how time would etch & erode

it all seemed so unlikely, so far away, but now days pass

like minutes, skittish almost in their desire to disappear

leaving me gasping for breath, reaching for a certainty

lost long ago, without notice.

Who are we now

those ‘bright young things’?

We partied then as if the dawn

would never dare to break

the night’s hold.

The best of days when life

was clean & new, bold with

latent dreams that maybe

came to pass:

we dared it all, in our own

sweet ways.

We swam into a tide

that oft times grasped us

with its forceful flow

smashed against the rocks

of life with no respite.

Who are we now

this London night?

This one I’ve kissed

& that one held

perhaps too tight

never wanting to let go.

Five decades I’ve glanced

into your eyes

from time to time

the feelings fled, yet

still rests an echo of

those sleepless nights

the tears, the laughter,

left behind.

Who are we now I ask

a final time?

There is no answer;

men & women

lost in mist

our beauty faded

our dreams become

a glimpse into eternity,

where Angels glide.

,