Thursday, 29 December 2016

A Swinsty Walk 28th December 2016


Still water, rather low, no gulls, a few geese,
Cobalt sky, beech leaves, mossy walls,
Freezing mist, trickling stream- rather slow, peace.
Old home, no longer my own calls,
Mind sees Solar, flagged halls,
Mother.  Eyes see Stone slates, sagging, thick fleece
Lagging beneath, keeping in heat - didn't in our day, which galls.
Still water, rather low, no gulls, a few geese,
Hikers - even more than before, mud, ice like grease.
Little dogs, yappy, owners similar, happy. Balls,
Thrown, retrieved. General post Christmas release.
Cobalt sky, beech leaves, mossy walls,
Nostalgia's shadow falls,
Fit each piece:
Freezing mist, trickling stream- rather slow, peace,
Into the jigsaw of memory, deep in every crease
Between grey matter, easy, nothing stalls,
All goes, especially smells, makes sadness increase.
Old home, no longer my own, calls:
Can't go into it, have to go past it. Hear how my voice drawls,
Dragging out descriptions, hoping to be overheard: "The lease
Was 25 years, they did their own repairs" voice grows louder, mind recalls
Scenes from childhood, still feel dull, no sudden caprice -
Rather low.

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