Playing BridgeSome summer moons ago…
I lingered away holidays…
Walking…
Walking familiar drives…
Walking to seek a new look at the small things…
Missed in the daily haste of highways…
Imprisoned lanes
And traffic lights…
~
And there, tucked between gaudy facades
Of gummy colours and red hot sales…
Was a park…
A tall tall elm…
And a bench and table…
~
Tender coated shapes
Hunched over the table…
Poetically tapered fingers
Lightly held
A bunch of cards…
~
2 shadows…playing bridge…
~
I began to walk daily…
To the park…
Round the park’s elliptic secrets…
Through the park’s dappling lights…
~
And any time…
The dews of morning…
The glare of midday…
The hush of late afternoon…
~
Always…
2 shadows…playing bridge…
~
But that was many summer moons ago…
~
And today a friend told me
I should read a book called Geophysics for the Wandering Spirit…
A book lost in the dust left by
Gummy colours and red hot sales…
But still there…
A tiny crystal trapped in the web of progress
Waiting to be discovered…
~
The book was written by some guy with a PhD in Geophysics…
~
Who loved to play bridge…
~
2 comments:
What a delightful poem, I love what you did with the prompt this week. Thanks for participating!
awwww.. you did this so well.. i just love the tie in between the two playing bridge and how you remembered it today because of the author that likes to play bridge ... perfect for the prompt.. to be prompted to memory....
Post a Comment