harbour lights

untouchable is what we become
unreachable by anyone

an old boat
holed and beached
adrift in memory

fingers of the restless sea
clawing the shingle for purchase

grant us peace and grace
the shelter of a much-loved face

and harbour lights
harbour lights
as we turn to face the night
untouchable

[first posted 7 Feb. 2015]

Stick

When I was young
I dreamt that I was old,
had wrinkled turkey hands
all thin and cracked,
watery eyes, a stick
to tap my way
along the village street
at close of day.

While others larked
on buses in the dark,
went to parties,
danced the night away,
I dreamt I had a stick
to tap my way
along the village street
at close of day.

Now as the night draws in,
and day is done,
I sit and dream awhile
that I was young.

And then it shall be winter

Now that my work nears completion,
I hear footsteps on the roof
and a ladder down below,
and a grey-faced man
approaches the cabin
from the cemetery side,
gesticulating.

And that was when it started,
the banging and the hammering
and the making good
for those who come after.

Ah, well, it must be time to go.

The days stretch out before me
like the long summer vacation
in boyhood.

A short walk before tea,
and then it shall be winter.