Slipping Away

Life’s elusive beauty slips But slips not quite away. When there is nothing to hold on to on This slate grey day when every voice is muffled With nothing to say When nothing is of substance all Lines blurred in the wet and the Moisture tastes of regret And the only desire is to Forget the things that Haven’t happened yet The street lamps are lonely in the Rain and all colours the same drab Drizzly tones of sorrow In the bars they are drinking to Tomorrow and I’ll join them if I can Borrow the price of my retreat From the grim misty cigarette butt streets Where the sun did shine once so The meteorologists assure us Surely good fortune cannot Ignore us forever it’s just held Up by the weather This does however feel like the Very definition of whatever so perhaps I’ll grow old and tramp These streets like the ghost of Vain endeavour in which case whenever You find yourself lost in the mist Or a cloud like this you think of Me when the drains gurgle in The gutter and this hiss of tyres on Tarmac as my leather soled Shoes slap cos I never said I’m not Coming back Jack. Meanwhile light is the word that brings the Spring but winter’s song must still be Heard and ice is formed within the voice That opens now to sing it.