It was an unremarkable day,
Sans drama or even mild event,
As I crept another year through
A plague's seasons, from womb to grave.
I started out with fruit and honey,
Coffee, rich and dark, bitter like
The months from years before,
And promises to myself to smile and try.
And I did, too, with earnest application,
Determined to do more and better
In the digital voids that fill the hours,
Between the daydreams and distractions.
Then, with mischievous abandon,
I left it all behind and stepped abroad,
Into the sweet-smelling wood once more,
The restless beck agitating over stones.
There, on the old route I walk alone,
I saw no difference to the path,
Trod between the rocks broken by
Forgotten hands beneath the weeping trees.
23rd September 2021
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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...
