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
Bright, seriously bright
Winter sunlight
That might set fire
To the dried leaves
If they weren’t so frosty
And of course
The son does cherish my soul
As I hope also for you
On this early December morning
The second Thursday as it happens
What kind of business would it be
If we could not lift ourselves
Out of the doubt of darkness
Into the sprinkled sunshine
Of a day to imagine
The radiators
Each one
Warm
At its selected time
Such is the wonder
Of automation
Fuzzy logic
And Nyquist diagrams
Lest I forget
Machine code
And Basic
As my way of life
I did learn
And understand
I did apply
Negative feedback
Was I in control
I wouldn’t say so
And neither would you
In contemporaneous accounts
There is a frost
In my garden
But also
In your life
How can I
A simple chap
Learn to thaw
In this moment
Or those other times
When I brought
The low temperatures
Into our life
Quite a conundrum
Don’t you think
Trying to be here and now
In the then and there
