Wednesday 15 June 2011

A Joy

When I was young, I’d suck up sherbert,

fun like a fool, take chances at dances:

looking for miracles, I’d go straight

into any action with a hatful of fancies.


Not small, the sky would be a sprawling

realm with joy, bewilderments bending

me, out of breath, as I boarded a trawler

to fish seven seas and land where I’m landing.


But, these days, I sail slowly

- bones aching lately –

and my islands of touch

keep it warm in the South.


As far as I can tell, there is no quicksand

with me on a road - heading West - round the bend.

1 comment:

  1. I feel this poem,especially the 'bones' aching lately, and no qucksand round the bend part- thanks, I enjoyed it... Zellie Quinn

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