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.
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