Eric Ashford Poet Free verse

Bohemian Threnody

Back then we could eat clouds -
we were that tall, even baggy Ben (who
was small for a lumpy kid),
could leap over a pub door
without leaving the floor.

Then behind our backs
a Lilliputian world crept up,
it was mouse-grey, and it nibbled ferociously.
 
I went to the South Coast to roustabout;
then the lot of them
chose to join the heavy brigade;
they got real jobs
not the casual hourly sideshow work
bohemians favored.
After spinning my head for a shilling I returned,
but by then  the whole decade had dispersed
like moths in a rainstorm.

I renewed an acquaintance or two
with former females, 
those who had been set aside
on shelves for later.

There was no longer any power in flowers
drum circles lost their nativist beat.
Of course we all sold out,
I was just a late bloomer.

Now in my mature and preserved fruitiness
I spurn the hallucinogenic 
and am as pious as any defrocked magpie
that drips memories by moonlight,
grudgingly bemoaning the sag 
of this slow jowly age.

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