1454 – A Poem of Memory

1454

Nigh on four years have elapsed since the silence
Stole in suddenly, a January bogeyman filling his
Pockets with the smiles of a summer not to come
Again. Words may have taken their long sojourn,
Yet memories stand still on the corner, selling dreams,
Hands in pockets, whistling through the seasons
Outside the station, sipping at coffee’s bottomless froth,
Musing on the touch of benches in woodland springs,
The dance of glances on pickle sandwiches in the sun,
Caught in the cockpit of reverie’s dancing hugs
Just once more before peering, one last time, across
The platform to watch you bounce on Converse toes
Towards… A week before the fifth year inches in
To the cry of silence and while those in sensible footwear
Trudge onward through their angular muttered days,
Mine morph in vivid memory of brightest ever sound.

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