It's weird, I could
have sworn
that I saw your face.
Underneath the fluorescent
incandescence. Pacing
between the cold metal seats.
The old stationary
monuments to a life
travelling away.
Weary passengers mass around,
congregating like strangers
at a funeral. eyes to the ground.
It’s weird, like time
had flipping back, the clock
sliding across the face
to some lost school day.
Where we would climb and play.
Tree houses to another place,
discussing the girls
that made our hearts pace,
times that felt exciting.
The sunlight would burn the sky,
the colour of fire, of youth.
you knew so much of my truth.
It's weird to see you
swaying through,
dancing between
the confused blue glow
of the night,
but in here there is
a cold wind biting.
Tearful faces
in the flickering lighting.
They know not why
the tears alight,
they are just searching,
seeking the right
bus to their destination.
It's weird to see you here,
not how I read
about you last.
Lying dead
at the rear of the dance floor
in that club,
you used to play records
to make the audiences sway.
The eyes glancing
at timetable screens.
In terminal obsolescence.
Nowhere to go
and no pathways remain.
Is this station the last boarding
place for souls I once knew?
If so, then I'll see a few.
all I can offer is my heart
and wish safe journey
to all of you.
Thanks for reading
Please take a few moments
to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"
available from Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/
No comments:
Post a Comment