Tuesday, 12 July 2011

When he was alive,

a train flew forward;

green fields, bright clouds, backward

- inside – blue seats vibrated

and the end of a black pen tilted.


Memory flew backwards

- old Mum, wooden school desk, Dad –

and his longing bellied forward

through anger, joy and fear, sadness,


forward and back from that sunlight into grey fog,

from this moment of - a very second

hurtling into time-space onward

away from a time unsullied

(now in an aching carriage)

and a future fully loaded.

2 comments:

  1. Well this is as good as it gets in the memory stakes.Thanks for posting lad.Regards j.

    ReplyDelete