The Window Brought The Lesson.

If you see me get up and stand by the morning window

I am remembering the accents of one-sided phone calls

And afternoons with mother

And what I was doing on this day, or that day

The details of an old house, an old friend

And how soon it would take for life to resume.


In those moments, you may take me

For I am on autopilot

Tying to think of some metaphor for

Watery lips, cucumber smile

Secret reflections, unspoken connections

And whether dreams satisfy

The real needs of my heart.


Or whether that was all just fodder,

Fodder for some listless afternoon

Or another short poem

With places and cathedral backrooms

Where men turn their wants

Into allegorical nursery-rhymes.


They don’t want to realise how soon

Life will resume

At best they know it’s like a

Half-forgotten old holiday trip

With some quirks, some follies

And their dreams can only be – lost to the world.


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