London - June 1966.(Revised).

                    1

      London - June 1966.
      
I broke my promise,
I did not visit you,
I sat all alone in the pub
Nursing my self regard
Like a pampered pop star.
Disturbed by your candid awkwardness
I had become afraid of intimacy.

You waited all day in your room,
Staring out of the window at the passing crowd,
Hoping to spy the visitor who never came.
The day cooled and darkened.
A shower sluiced the road with rivulets of mud.
The weather mirrored your mood.
You closed the window against the driving rain.

Your friends told me that you cried then;
Turned your face to the wall, tore at the curtain.
You had never shown me your tears,
Nor your anger, nor your love,
But your silence was familiar to me.

The next day I arrived on the doorstep,
Dishevelled, unkempt, just like the weather.
You said nothing, your face was a stern mask,
You turned away from my greeting. Frozen out
I snatched some chit-chat with your neighbour,
Snippets of news and some general tittle-tattle.
You were watchful, aloof; but hunched by the fire
Took note of my every word, thinking.

Bare footed , head lowered, eyes half closed,
A scorned Pre-Raphaelite Icon nursing grief;
Gently you brushed my face with your index finger
As you walked slowly, not speaking, to your room.
I stared at the lino, now noting how worn it was,
Spotted by cigarette burns, heel dents, grease stains;
The corners scuffed up and broken.

Your father put down his newspaper and sighed.

The door closed quietly behind you.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
May 2008 - Revised June 2nd, - 10th. 2013. - May 16th. 2017.
first Version blogged 2nd. August 2012.