He saw his world through frosted pantry windows spiced as it was with home made marmalade and golden pickled onions in jars dated before he could remember painted in shadows by a forty watt lightbulb with a broken shade.
Occasionally he thought he might like to get out more and seek a wider truth but here he had all he needed here he felt safe and after all was said and done it was home.
such is the curse, to remember every word from each light smile, or scolding too from scornful lips, the scratching regret of that left unsaid cut too as memory, as do the oft retold stories behind old faded photographs burn tears from eyes that long to forget them.
was there then a red rainfall my memory is not complete the years have played with my recall so lest my verse be obsolete I can remember water though black as blood streams everywhere river crossing, gutters flow to fountain’s crystals in the square, there is no more that I may tell nor will my story ever end for recollection’s empty shell allows what was with dreams to blend
that all our sweetest moments we could forever hold perfection fixed unmarked by time within an amber’s gold that no passing days may fade the beauty of their form not just as fading memory but clear as first they dawned.
in what was the longest hour I plucked a garden’s perfect flower and placed it smiling in your hair and what nature’s craft did bear my artifice planted solace new that bloomed as spring from within you.
carved love spoons eisteddfod tunes while feeding little ducks mountain’s glow and vertigo atop an aqueduct I miss the cows, I miss the sheep and the draughty chalet door I may travel down this road again but like then never more.
tea shoppes at the castle gates swerving caravans motorbikes broken tapes where’s the ice cream man there’s a cow there’s a goat and there’s some wooly backs wrong way round the roundabout past old railway tracks