To turn you on
To pass you by
The leaves have gone
The sand is dry
Oh me oh my
What am I escaping from
The South West sky
And the dinner gong
It won’t be long
Neither now nor in time past present
The time ahead to turn somehow
And not be unwisely led
To turn you on
To pass you by
The leaves have gone
Is now the time to belie
It is lunchtime
I have been out
To take a few photographs
Looking at the mist and trees
The small fruit and the fallen leaves
I am back indoors
The radiator keeps me warm
And Poppy Ackroyd’s immersive mix
Keeps my minds attention
Focussed on the lightness of touch
Using the IKEA wooden boxes “knagglig"
For speaker stands has worked a treat
Although I am considering yoga blocks
As an alternative, to allow the boxes
Once more to be used for art material storage
To wonder
How to reach
Beyond here and now
Yes
How to go
Into time
Those thirteen hours
Between your time
And my time
Or those
Fifteen-thousand- one - hundred and twenty
Back to the last time
Imagine
All of that time
Without you
Work it out for yourself
The numbers
Are the easy part
When do we stop doing those things
Which we felt to be so important in the moment
Those activities begun with such enthusiasm
Having found an apparent sense of purpose
Only to find out, days or months later
That the intensity has faded, replaced
Or so I suppose by another, new infatuation
I am clumsy, awkward
Undistinguished
Yet I write
Partly to overcome these failings
But also
As a celebration of my past
My memories
My good times
Which you can’t possibly share
Yet you might have empathy
For aren’t we all, a little
Clumsy, awkward
Undistinguishable
