Tuesday, October 26, 2004

Where You Are


Unexpectedly I find you
In the folds
Of a document
Antique and cold.
In the smell of playing cards.
In a memory.
As I hit the water
Sliding down the slippery enamel of the new bath.
(Who knows what film I was in)
The laughter of your workmates
The scrape of the trowel
Mixing sand and cement on the yard
In the flat cap you wore
Riding your old bicycle
In the winter’s early light
In the laugh and the smile we share
In postmarks and perforations
In the trails of postal history
Thick card boxes and stock books
In the railway lines I followed
Drawn on the beach
Leading me in circles
Sitting in the motorboat of sand
Waiting for the tide to come in

2 comments:

michael said...

"The trails of postal history" has a certain ambience, especailly since raking through the musty boxes of mail art in the coal shed. No mice trails fortunatley!

Syl said...

I think all our submissions
to the history trail make a difference
It may seem insignificant
but the total is today's essence.
(so there's my little
"We all count" statement for
the day.