*-You could be tempted to fold.*
* You do nothing of the sort.-*
- *Jill Jones*
I return to cliff’s edge
It delights me so
To dangle a leg over
Smiling precariously
To swim in the deep
To climb and cling
I’ll never leave my childhood behind
Or the chemical warfare
Of my teenage walkabouts
They have torn down the old haunts
Glamorised the seedy parks
And closed the deli on the corner
Where Giuseppe kept metho on ice
And stored milk in small bottles
For White Lady connoisseurs.
No point replaying the past
Although the body has its One Man shows
Variety items sketching back
To mother’s womb as
The old theatre organist plays
In the shadows of her thighs.
As has been said, the future lies ahead.
There are many recipes for leftovers
Mixed in with new day’s freshness
Still falls a hard rain and ice
Breaks windscreen wipers
On frost-filled mornings. There was
No apocalypse in last night’s
Weather forecast. The fire
Glows low in the grate and rain
Rusts the plough and hoe.
~
Any comments welcome. It is a first draft so all and any responses will be
read with an open mind!
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