Tag: poem

A Foreign Memory

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The sound of an Oud moves a foreign memory to the fore of your mind as you walk through the streets of a foreign town as a foreigner.

They look at you with different coloured eyes, yet you look at them with the eyes of a person unseasoned in the ways of the world.

The smell of Rose Water, Orange Blossom, and mint tea reminds you of another memory from before you were whom you appear to be now.

A market tempts you to buy material possessions you thought you would never own, as something about the items takes you back.

The touch of a warm breeze moves your legs towards a place of Olive and Oleander, as the memory becomes a reality and you know

why you came to this place.

A Darkening Room

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The light begins to take cover under a sea of clouds;
the clouds move closer and grower darker and darker.

I keep the light off in my room, waiting for the rain to
begin, and hoping for the chance to show you a photo.

You are stuck in North Queensland being burnt by the
sun every day; I sit here in the cold, wet winter I love.

The night creeps closer, and the sky becomes darker,
as the rain starts to fall and move down the window.

I take a series of photos, then send my best one to you,
although I think you will say the weather is yucky again.

The night sets in. I imagine you out and about in the
garden, talking to the neighbour or cooking dinner for two.

You stay locked in North Queensland, and I stay locked in
Gippsland, as we wait for the chance to hug and kiss again.

The light is a faded memory on the horizon, as twilight loses
to the night and the absence of moon and stars leaves only
the reflection of someone I should know better in the window.

The Last Song

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Words spoken we feared would come
to spill out from old rusty speakers.

We never thought this day would come,
we always knew this day would come;
we did it to ourselves, and we knew it.

Words spoken, hurried tones to loved ones
for they will be the last words from our lips.

We stood and sat as the day moved along;
a last dose of intimacy between the two of us.

The record player sits still waiting for the album,
yet we cannot decide what will be the last song.

We play them all for the rest of the day waiting;
then a song starts to play we both love and

…

..

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