A church clock chimes
Ringing ears, we continue
Our time is strewn
Only a few hours more
Yet here and now
A quiet indulgence
Sunlight; so strong
As to make a shadow
Where lead and paper meet
Away from the streets
And bars, and cars
And non-delayed gratification
From the station by
The canal, from the
Incident offered by chance
To the romance
Of beginning over
Yes, beginning again
There is both noise and dullness, brought on by the previous evening’s excess, yet almost for certain there will be no redress, for tonight, without doubt, the celebrations will continue.
Around midday, especially if the sun shines, the haze within me will begin to fade, clarity and a desire for joy will return, to both mind and body, in more or less that is, in approximately equal measure.
The treasure of this cycle is the entire collapse of willpower; without thought of recrimination we seek out a temporary elation, to chase out the long lasting doubts of a too too singular, too too restricted vision.
There is little choice, less even of weighted decision, neither either is there derision, for mostly we are in this thing together, taking onboard our fair share of the simple man’s pleasure in finding absence.
The child in the man
Learnt behaviour
Earned
Without the need to cram
Always to believe
You are the one who can
Relieved
Of doubt you stand
By the side
Of the younger man
With enthusiasm
For rigor mortis
I can take pleasure in the walking, imagine myself easily as a Flaneur, either when window shopping, museum browsing, or in the park, beside the ducks on settled water.
Absentmindedly I forgot to observe the bicycles, or the traffic-lights. My momentary imperious privilege was to wander freely, with good posture and deportment; yes always in the finest shoes.
Yet also in the city I am able to fine-tune my movement; I nip, and tuck, and skip with the certainty of a mind and body, synchronised by the good food, the fresh air, and the most healthy outlook.
Woken by the chatter
A slit to the window
Spoken words natter
Spilt from one to one
Park and city
Field of countryside
Names and faces
Lifelines to collide
Beauty; in the beautiful
Artists and collectors
We are humans, dancers
Open to the answers
With youth, and mature
Immaturity
Of social gatherings
We feel that life is passed on
