THEN AND LATER

by Rod Davies

This small collection of mainly lyrical poems were written during the past few years and are based on events of my boyhood and later life.

We called her

‘Wellington Boots’,

the plump girl with

brown hair and a

broad country face,

who came with the rain

in her mackintosh

and black galoshes.

We saw her on

our Sunday walks

kicking with a

dour joyfulness

at the wind-blown

piles of wet leaves ,

and as she passed

we’d laugh unkindly

at her leaf-disturbing

boots and at her

simple-minded delight.

She always looked away,

her hair damp, her mac

buttoned-up tight,

then so sadly wiped

the rain from her

broad country face.

With glacial slowness

the thaw came.

Dripping icicles reflect

motes of light

in the morning sun.

Soft snow presses down

into split earth,

melting, melting

with my heart.

The air moans lost among

the shoots of crocus,

seeking the familiar

frosts of yesterday,

whilst overhead

a single, tired

homecoming bird

sings joyfully,

happy that the landscape

of my soul

has shown another

and a brighter face.

It lay in a wide, shallow box

behind heavy red curtains,

hidden from the sun.

I remember the first time

I looked at it,

lifting the wooden lid

with nervous fingers,

wondering if its eyes

would glare angrily

up at me

or its mouth open

and bite my hand.

But it lay inert and white,

the eyes sightless,

the lips compressed

in death, a mere

facsimile of a face

that had once

moved with life.

A still, smooth plaster face,

lying in a shallow box,

behind heavy red curtains,

hidden from the sun.

She’s sitting alone in her room,

I think I know how she’s feeling,

see how the wallpaper’s peeling

from her life.

She’s staying alone in her room

doing her best to forget him,

wishing that she’d never let him

in her life.

We must tread softly

as we pass by her door.

I know she cannot

really take anymore.

She needs time, a little time

with her life.

She’s hiding alone in her room.

It’s late, she hasn’t been sleeping,

I believe she’s been silently weeping

for her life.

She’s praying alone in her room

asking the good Lord to guide her,

hating the hurt that’s inside her

and her life.

We must tread softly

as we pass by her door.

I know she cannot

really take anymore.

She needs time, a little time

with her life.

Time for laughter,

time for crying,

time to mourn a

love that’s dying.

Time for hope,

time for sorrow,

time to find a

new tomorrow.

Beneath the lawn it ran

and under the terrace,

a dark, brick-arched tunnel

hung with white stalactites,

big enough for a boy

to crawl along.

In the mud of its floor

were treasures:

broken pots, dogs’ bones,

pieces of clay pipe

and the odd coin.

They had lain

undisturbed

for centuries,

detritus from another age,

waiting in that

dark, brick-arched tunnel

for a boy to crawl along.

By the ocean,

constant motion,

waves are breaking

like my heart.

Tide is rising,

sympathising,

for deep waters

sometimes part.

Graceful lady

went and made me

lose my heart to

all her charms.

How I miss her,

want to kiss her,

need to hold her

in my arms.

Gulf stream water

gladly brought her,

now it lets her

sail away.

Seagulls flying

watch me crying

at the ending

of our day.

On the beach, on the beach,

on the beach in this sadness

of farewell.

On the beach, on the beach,

on the beach feeling empty

as a shell.

I have woken many times

to thoughts of you,

and have gazed, unseeing,

into the night’s gloom

for a sight of you.

Always my voice,

calling your name,

expects an answer

but none comes,

and my hand, held out,

remains unclasped.

Could you be there?

Or is it mere vanity

to hope that you

would seek me out? ~

I, who in your life

was less than generous,

and who, like a

child swatting a fly,

crushed your loving heart.

Can love die so quickly

when it was such a part of us,

when it wound sweet coils around us

and tied us heart to heart?

Can love be soon forgotten

when it filled our thoughts with yearning,

when it blessed our nights together

with its soft caress?

Can love be lost completely

when it promised to be faithful,

when it formed a bond between us

that was strong and true?

Perhaps you’ll find the answers

when our days apart have lengthened,

when my voice no longer tells you

the words of love.

There used to be a little restaurant

half a mile from here.

We’d meet there after work

to share a glass of beer.

I wore my old trench coat

and the hat with the velvet band;

you smoked your Gauloise

and laughed a lot into your hand.

On Sunday afternoons

we’d take a stroll,

and when the moon came up

dance some rock ‘n’ roll.

You really moved your hips

as you taught me how to jive,

I thought the world of you

you made me come all alive.

O memories, creeping up on me,

they keep coming back,

they don’t like to leave.

And if I close my eyes

I can see you now

the way you used to be,

with that look in your eye,

that smile on your face,

that love in your heart for me.

Oh, how the years have flown

and vanished in the haze!

And I forget quite when

we went our separate ways.

But in the darkest night

when I’m lying in my bed,

I hear your laugh again,

hear the words that you said.

O memories, creeping up on me,

they keep coming back,

they don’t like to leave.

And if I close my eyes

I can see you now

the way you used to be,

with that look in your eye,

that smile on your face,

that love in your heart for me.

The night air

brings its sounds

like mosquitoes,

uninvited, annoying,

forcing their

unwanted way

into awareness,

while the mouse,

unconcerned

and uncaring,

quietly runs his wheel

and Cortot plays

Chopin with dead fingers,

striking a lost keyboard

so the notes ring.

And I had forgotten

there’s a Full Moon.

Those days have all gone

when the sun brightly shone

and life seemed a

wonderful game, so germane.

Now when I look at you

though your smile seems as true,

it’s just your face in this

photograph frame,

your lovely face in this

photograph frame.

My options are blown

and I’m here all alone

with a drink and a

deep sense of shame, self-blame.

We had children and pets,

now I live with regrets

and your face in this

photograph frame,

your lovely face in this

photograph frame.

I didn’t know what love was,

I thought riches were wealth.

You see I didn’t understand

you were the jewel in my hand,

who only wanted my time and myself,

so I lost you to somebody else.

When you walked out I cried

and I know my heart died,

but I guess I’d have done

just the same, I became

so caught up with my career,

that I made you, my dear,

just a face in this

photograph frame,

lost my place in this

photograph frame.

I didn’t sense your heartache

or that things weren’t the same.

But when you left I felt it all

and so my tears fall

on your face in this

photograph frame,

your lovely face in this

photograph frame,

no saving grace in this

photograph frame.

If you live in the love

then you’ll love how you live,

and the shadows will fade

from your dreams.

And if all you possess

is the will to forgive,

then you have everything

that life means.

If you open your heart

to the silence within,

you’ll find peace in the

long lonely night.

And if you set your feet

in the footsteps of Him,

then you’ll know that your

way will be right.

I don’t know what

tomorrow will bring,

but I know that I won’t

be alone.

I don’t know if the

bluebirds will sing,

but I know that I’ll find

my way home.

If you leave those you meet

with a smile on each face,

you’ll have laid one more

brick in love’s wall.

And if truth is the lover

you seek to embrace,

you’ll find joy in the

trust of us all.

If you ask in your prayers

for the strength to be good,

that is all you need

ever ask for.

And if you always do what

you know that you should,

you’ll see light on that last

distant shore.

I don’t know what

tomorrow will bring,

but I know that I won’t

be alone.

I don’t know if the

bluebirds will sing,

but I know that I’ll find

my way home.