The Pantry

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.

A Scattered Memory as Verse

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

A Reverie

“Memory, hither come
      and tune your merry notes”
                            William Blake

light reverie came upon me
in singing ayrs of that we were
and in those sweetest melodies
a lyric lost was hanging there,

and this forgotten memory
held music played so fair
of endless hopes and night less days
that did my troubles bear,

dark melancholy did away
and fled to futures far
the past held in this music’s sway
is such a light memoir.