the children on the street
dance to the music of the rain
stagger from puddle to puddle
under newspaper tents
dance and prance translucent
like ghosts or angels
memories or expectations
wet and uneven
beneath the failing umbrella of time
steeped with the echoing patter of laughter
and for a moment i am lost
drifting away from
this room of candles and Earl Grey tea
drifting and disappearing into yesterday
into the nostalgia of
things missed slowly dissolving
behind a veil of mist
that stops just short of tears
until you reach for my hand
hold me like an anchor
and whisper, "Please, not now ..."
now and then
now and then
bookends to all the words
i have poured
over the brow of life
always believing i could lift the world
from the fount
and wash it clean
with a simple blessing
the mistake of every saviour
who believes that saving the world
will also be the moment of personal salvation
but the disappointments of time
the anger and the rage
never subsided
never flowed with the rainwater
between the dead leaves
along the curbside
and into the gutter
and even when the sun
broke through grey clouds
still i saw shadows beneath
the bright flowers
i smiled the afternoon
you carried wild flowers from the roadside
wove them into my hair
and looked through my eyes
like only a lover could
and declared me your prince
of daisies
i loved you then
more than pleasure
more than hurt
and for a time
i believed we would be together
forever
until the day of parting
beat through the door
and i realised
a promise
is not a vow
