On a past love

by Jack Buckingham

Never mind these days
That barely three thoughts
In twenty thousand
Settle upon our lives
Together
And your face
The people I convinced,
My couple of informers,
Assure me
The squinting twinkle of your eyes
And that broad grin
Remain to cheer
The company of your new world,
And in spite of it all,
I'm glad enough
And salute your fortune
With the genuine fondness
Of one belonging
To memory.

For with you,
A life and a half ago,
I forced the door
To deliberate suburban living,
Sang carols in a hearty voice,
Still flat, for some things never change,
Learnt to savour red wine
In tandem, clinking glasses
Gleefully,
Exchanged silly names
On Christmas cards,
Discovered the delights
Of being truly rained upon,
Shuddered to clutching earth
So many times,
Created a child to be proud of,
Set out on Sunday drives
With a full tank of petrol
And absolutely no destination,
Ran the family Christmas
As a genial matter of course,
Stormed nearly to madness
Too many times
To be me.

And call it the cool
Of the unchanging season,
Or the date
Shuffling the lamplight fog
Of far forgotten calendars
Peeling in disused shop windows
On streets of obscurity,
So nearly gone like the memory
Of candlewax remains
The blackout night
The one before last,
But fleetingly
The misty ends
Of early winter waking
Send me your spirit
To slant across
The turning mill of my first sluggish thoughts,
And pass
To a dance on a village green
From older younger days
That never took place
Except in dreams,
And a pinprick of loss
That comes now to touch me,
Once in a life of thousands.