posted by Mike Doherty on 21 Sept 2020 at 2:51 pm
Sea View.
New day. A water colour of greys. The faintest of blues
mutely washing against one another. A silent parade through
double-glazed glass, that barrier making a fiction of all
that lies beyond. Insulated here in cushioned air the great indoors
applauds the view without and I hanker for excursions into the light.
Out there beyond the panes, on the promenade, the elderly stroll
in this spell of fine weather. A perfect foil for the changing season.
The coming days will demand more of the light so winter can wrap
her blanket around the sun and all the people here will recede, tide-like
into their neat enclaves.
This morning come like a reggae beat
Look outside, sunshine on the street
Old people shimmer in the heat
This is no place for hide and seek
Proud heads on shoulders thrown back, their fingers squeezing memories
in hands clasped to ward off the worst of the past. In this moment, in soft air
they occupy the frontier between everything that ever was and everything
that is meant to be. They are the troops, foot soldiers whose marching feet
we shall recall when our time comes to follow the walk they make, half knowing
there is no return and coming to turns with the route. They are stars on the side-walk
as we peer into the pastel colours that make today disappear in a dream.
The coast, all the colours of heaven.
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