Winter.

Seeing you again,

On a cold day in May,

I felt a sense of loss.

Had I acted rashly,

Not thinking of love enduring

Not counting the cost?

Were those thoughts

That once lifted our spirits

Weaker than the ones

Dragging us down,

Knowing we will age disgracefully

Beset by forgetfulness,

Ill-health and poverty,

The dreams of our youth

Having flown South

For the winter?

As we spoke I knew you felt it too.

We had arrived at the same place,

After choosing different paths,

Where the ghost of what-could-have-been

Leaves deep footprints in snow.

We said our goodbyes,

Promising to keep in touch,

Knowing this was unlikely

As we reminded each other too much

Of life's brevity

And how chances not taken

Slip away as the blood thickens,

As the brain fades,

Forsaking the thrill of possible futures

For the familiarity of distant pasts,

All as empty as air.

Literacy.

  

Do words alarm you?

They shift and change meaning,

Alter spelling,

Almost as if

They are trying to trick you.

Sometimes, you run out of vowels

And realise there’s nothing left

To cry about.

So you go into debt,

Buying consonants,

Spending big on S’s, N’s and L’s,

But your mind is writing cheques

Your tongue can’t cash.

There are just not enough

Shelters for the wordless.

We must give literacy

Back to those in need,

Freeing entire generations

From bondage, from slavery.

Imagine that: to feel the joy

Of language returning

Like a lover

After an argument.

 

© shaun patrick green 2021