Two Dog Night
Two dog night
A stillness had crept in under a cloak
of finely sculptured snowflakes, descending
quietly from an oppressively heavy sky.
It blanketed deserted streets
that longed for the busy life
they had been built to accommodate.
Snow, Nature’s comforter;
Soothing the urban animal
with a winter medley of lullabies.
Slowly the urban nightshift trickles in,
Streets begin their slumbers once again,
Restless, tall buildings grumble as the interlude begins,
Until their lifeblood disappears and emptiness remains.
An empty backyard, sheltered and dry,
his best offer so far.
He slumped onto a pile of empty boxes,
Sleep seductively called his name,
Promising to sooth his deeply furrowed brow
and ease the nagging pain inside his head,
Bringing peace to a troubled mind and soul.
Sing softly, lest we wake the raging bull,
Let sleep cleanse doubts and ease the troubled mind,
Bring forth fresh fields in which to wander free,
While on the far horizon sails his ship close to the wind.
He smiled at a memory,
A Led Zeppelin gig many years ago,
Glory Days!
Eighteen years old and full of life!
Living was easy, problems were small,
His journey through life in its infancy.
Driftwood ebbs and flows with tidal repetition,
His memory playing outtakes from a near forgotten past,
Once, no thought of futures held his gaze,
The present was the only time and surely would forever last.
He woke to a soft edged marshmallow world,
Sweeping lines of virgin snow rose and fell, white and pristine.
White, the colour of colours, yet not colour?
Insipid? Pale? Bland?
Mother Nature’s idea of a joke?
Readying the world for a fresh coat of paint.
The artists canvas, nondescript and white,
Needs colour free and bountiful to stimulate the mind,
Should we ever need reminding of the quality in life,
Look around and see the colours other people leave behind.
He'd aspired to be like his father,
'You missed that target!' said the voice in his head!
"I didn't!" he shouted,
"I didn't!" this time softer and to himself.
The poster on the wall shouted its message:
'EAT AT JOES, ALL YOU CAN EAT FOR A FIVER!'
Its job done for now.
His Dad had had the measure of him!
Oh, how he missed that man.
Time doesn't heal.
It simply draws a darkened veil across our access to the past,
Allowing us a chance to change the things that we perceived as real
and overwrite our stage notes, without the need to change the cast.
Copyright © Fred Clark | Year Posted 2019
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