Cigarette smoke
And walking boots
An unlikely combination
Yet the deep-throated cough
And splutter
Suggest it is well set in
Your brother, my brother
Needed an heart attack
To end his addiction
Your son, my son
Hasn’t got there yet
But he might
I gave up
Several times over
Yet the aroma…
Oh yes
That drift, that waft
Of nicotine grabs hold
Temptation
All of life
Looking out to sea
Or tidal estuary
I have to end my angst
Or, as my mother
Might have said
Christopher lad
It will be the death of you
And how will that leave me
So, sat outside the Ropewalk
Which, for now, does not open
On Mondays or Tuesdays
I will have to ask for a leaflet
Or, as my mother
Might have said
Nay lad
You’d better buck your ideas up
If you want to engage in love’s prosperity
Each way, or all ways
Setting out across the sands
Watching out for the tide
Noticing the footprint impressions
Which somehow seem
To amplify the power
As it is
With the holding of the hands
Also to share kisses and whispers
Solid stone, early summer sun
The day of the FA Cup Final
An early morning take-off
Or a previous evening’s flight
From a life of a restricted existence
Where will the road go now
It would be easier to let you in
Than to climb those aeroplane steps
To travel to a land so so far away
It is in the writing where the words
Break through the surface, to allow exploration
Among the blank lines of potential verse
It is in the writing where the thoughts
Burrow into the darkness, as if
Being underground helps to see the light
Would it be easier to let you go
Rather than to climb those aeroplane steps
For a journey to a land so so filled with love
In that other place
Where to be
Is to be in the mix
Selecting regular or large
Americano
To go with the English breakfast
Chair and table
Pulled to one side
To let the window-seat customers
Pass by
On the way
To enjoy the rest of their day
Why do we let things
Pray on our minds
Are we principled or annoyed
You would be better
With something small in a pot
All that is left
Is the time to settle
To find the heart
Of the cause
For longing
A voyage to the horizon
Of the hurt
Of the separation
Between the crumpled inner core
And the vaguest of far-distance
Simply begin the conversation
Fear not
For failures words
Neither those of suggestion
Feel empathy
As if the destruction itself
Was in truth a kindness
Think on
Of those veritable monks
And next years longed-for visit
Work through
The contributions you might make
To their deliberations
Rest in this beauty
Contemplate on the gifts
Which you each have been gifted