Out of time,
but stories never age.
Timeless wanderer
floats aimlessly
through the shiny new
shopping parade.
Avoiding gazes. Mind hazes over
as the sounds blow eerily through
His worn out lost pages blown away from view.
The way light teases
the automatic doorway.
Tempting it to open,
with a gleefully
playful dance.
Back in the sway
of this bustling hour of day.
The rush, as sounds collide, cascading.
Waves, avalanches of noise
bring a crashing mind
back into the day with a thud.
Out of time
where the story line
is oversaturated in
technicolour HD.
He places a foot tentatively
upon the granite pathway
and feels a rush,
as the world sways,
slipping into the
borrowed memory,
of a distant day.
Back to cobble stones
from a time before.
Tramlines to bustling
department stores.
Feeling this is where
his mind should reside.
This place. Out of time
Where poets weren't maligned
When the written word
wasn't breezed over
awaiting the inevitable
Hollywood makeover.
He feels, out of time.
Where the bright lights still shine.
He would be so much
happier with a quill,
Some parchment
to write his forever lines.
A candlelit desktop,
planning trips to local bookshops.
instead of waiting
at cold fluorescent lit bus stops.
Watching the world crumble
to the ever rumbling, oncoming
full stop.
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/
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