Here's One I Prepared Earlier

The Old Place

A new poem for the collection - just for you. Now aren't you glad you took a sneaky peak?

The Old Place

He could take the turn in his sleep.

A step to the gate

Oxidised and complaining

That squeaks to open

Begrudging passage

To a lane once  a road

Barely room for the car

And the hazel branches

That hold the car close

As they scratch at the windows

And scrape at the doors.

The lane twists and turns for a  mile or more

Strewn with the fruits of the January storms

Moss covered limbs

Light with decay

Easily lifted

Tossed out of the way

And the smaller branches

That crunch beneath tyres.

Between  hazel and hawthorn

And white blossom turning

The car passes slowly

Till a bend to the right.

And rising above the treetops

The hint of  a roof

Red bricked, leaning,

Familiar shadow

Atop the still standing weathervane

The cockerel realistic in his rust coat

And the old place appears before him

Shaking hands hold the steering wheel

That turns in the yard.

Into home

That is home no more

Deserted yet inhabited

With crows in the chimneys

And rats in the attic

Spiders weave curtains across

Dust covered windows

Ivy marks the door

Slipping on the mossy flag

He drops the key clumsily

From unsteady fingers

Cymbols in the silence

He stoops cursing,

With back stiff and curved

The key is placed in the lock

of a door that never was closed

To family and friends.

A  push that opens

To an empty space

Memory rich.

Against the wall he struggles

Shoulders heaving

Long have their dreams and hopes

Been buried deep

In the churchyard

He  passed but could not enter

He recalls

The tears on her cheek

That  last vanilla scented hug

God grant you safe passage Mikey

Him, with the back turned

The door forever closed against him

No more the seat by the fire to warm his feet

And no more the heat of the range

The scent of bread and apples

And  the butter and jam

 and plates set on the table,

the clatter of cutlery and delf,

and eating and arguing.

prayers for good weather and sick relatives

and for the pride of a son taking orders

Gone, all gone

Only him and the scratch of the rats

And the caw of the crows

A set of footprints across the dust

The print of her kiss on his cheek

Safe passage my son.

Safe passage.