Of a New Year's Eve
Thu, 31 Dec 2015
Trapped in a time-warp, dusk succumbs to dark;
my thoughts fast-track back to a black, shiny baby-grand...
a child, hiding underneath – chasing the tail of a cat –
managed to catch it, well before she...
Mesmerised by her mother’s feet in spangled, silver shoes,
as they rose, and fell, oh, so deftly, singing along
to a rippling appassionato.
How I long to relive those days; to be sitting round a table –
set for Mah Jong with its ‘four winds’ and tiny, bamboo tablets,
faced in finest ivory.
Ensconced in the parlour, chestnuts roasting on the fire. Yes,
really. It doesn’t just happen in Christmas songs, because we
actually did, back then.
Father, driving the buses, would come home after work
with a backdrop of the passage light...hair, matted on his temples,
with tales of who, when, what happened on his shift,
his face lit with satisfaction of a long day’s drudge done
The important things in life are ours for the gleaning...the upside
down reflection of the world in a puddle...the skip of a kid’s heart
at the sound of a school bell ringing...the snatch of breath
when a sunburst rips apart a darkening winter’s evening sky.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter...all seasons passing – hearing
the clock strike at that witching hour I’d normally be in bed.
Twelve – midnight, the start of a brand new year, yet memories
like these, when everything passed, but time itself,
I hold so dear.