Carpets of thorns and lilies

 

Other Men's words
The kerbstones that I've misplaced
Searching their words, for rhyme or reason
Staining seasons passed, it's now clearer space

 

Gravestones and epitaphs
Inscriptions defying descriptions, they're the words I'm after
Gathering spontaneity, picking grave to grave
A kaleidoscope of conversations, generation's future saved

 

The lilacs and the bluebells, cards from Mrs May
Carpets of thorns and lilies, long away days
Of all the deaths you've told and listened
All the bouquets you've pondered and passed

 

You've read other men's words
Passed their pasts, into some unknown, future place
Searched their faces, for rhyme or reason
Staining seasons passed, it's now a new beginning, new beginning space

 

 

 

Footnote

 

The first poem in trying to break away from the poetry of the past, that morning I'd written a few words of closure (however temporary) on a past relationship, I'd read a little of Aidrian Henry, and halfway through typing up the poem  Mr Morrison came along, singing of Madame George.