It is a strange claustrophobia,
Being alone in a fog of thoughts
With only the rattle of the television
And the lazy fuss of the cat to
Accompany these listless hours.
Memories of those loved and lost
Swoop and peck at the mind like
Magpies, unearthing shiny remnants,
Fragments of possibilities that once
Gleamed brightly - stars to set a
Course by - but which now lie dull,
Trodden like gravel into old paths
Stolen by the woodland's mossy creep.
Strange what hopes and store were
Set so long ago by what now seems
So much dust, the fripperies of
Cloistered lives, pleasantly dull,
Achievements celebrated and forgot
Like last spring's bluebells or
A sunset fire above the hills.
YOU ARE READING
Fragments And Reflections
PoetryPoems looking at everything and anything not in my other collections. Here you'll find life and time, wild oceans and lonely coast paths, busy streets and empty hotel rooms, wild concerts and late night writing. All just fragments and reflections, l...
