It was as an echo, this dinner,
Its wine and food - a rich roast
And soft, sweet desserts,
Cheese from Bologna and
The bitterest coffee - suffused
With laughter and intense
Conversation: the teasing,
Playful taunts of those who
Love words and the musicality
Of language and its worth.
The place was different,
Brighter, without the flicker
Of candles and the sharp
Tang of pipe smoke or
Postprandial cigarettes lit
Amid ferocious debate as
The music assumed a sweet,
Much-missed melancholy.
Absent, too, the shuffle of
The old man, sitting by
Hopefully for more than
Crumbs from the table,
Content to slumber beneath
The stretch of table as our
Friendship warmed the
Evening, the fire burning
Low and the whisky flowing.
But yet, it was still us, older,
Sadder, no wiser, wondering
Silently on the grey and the
Aches that have appeared
With the years, those wordless
Reminders of how transitory
Are such pleasures that manifest
In the company of friends.
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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...
