I was spot on that evening we met,
Our togetherness is for life,
And not just that time censored moment
Long ago,
and almost lost in the dust
That seems to deepen every time I look back.
We sat close together in the snug
Talking
Talking
Talking
Until, at 11 precisely, the lights flashed on and off,
The hand clanged brass bell crashed our trains of thought,
And the Bar Dog started barking.
Later there was cake, coke and coffee, under a dark green awning,
Then your backward glance as you crossed Tottenham Court Road.
Yes, I knew we were linked for life from that night in the snug,
Spliced tight, tuned in to an inhouse radio station.
And yet we were far too wild to settle down then,
Too self absorbed,
Hell bent on life style choices
That left us high and dry, on opposite sides of convention,
And unable to change our minds.
Dream crystals glitzed our goodtime friends to ghosts:
But to you they seemed a life line.
You wised up, thank God, before Death aimed his scythe.
Oh yes we were far too wild, and perhaps still are now,
Mature in everything but imagination.
All night I have been thinking of our first encounter,
And also that later time, when lying out under the stars
We shared a sleeping bag in a field of horses,
We snuggled close while the white faced moon passed over.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter,
May 1st. - 2nd. -3rd. 2023.
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