Different shirts ...

Waiting for the comrades, I read Gareth's words -

I remembered the gaudy nights, the guitars played at midnight - 

I'd been beguiled by a puckish smile - 

There was a summer moon in the velvet sky -  

Each one of us wore our promise as though we wore a golden shirt - 

*

I remembered the long drive north, the clear stream flowing in the darkness - 

Rain had fallen upon the roof of the small house - 

The American mother had smoked thin cigarettes - 

We'd reeled through waist high thistles - 

I'd heard louche wisdom over a glass - 

* 

Later, there'd been a juke box in a Southsea bar - 

Bruce Springsteen was singing we were born to run - 

Already there were holes in our coats - 

*

Now the wind that sweeps round the world is seeking us out - 

I hear its voice in the quiet streets - 

Beloved faces become chill masks - 

We put on different shirts - 

20.45

Thursday 8 February 2018

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset