It’s been a pretty full on few weeks here at Perring Towers. Mostly, those weeks have been filled with editing and course things, but I’ve also found time to read a little (Aimee Bender’s The Color Master is every bit as wonderful as I’d expected it to be, and contains the best short story I’ve read this year in Tiger Mending). I met up with a couple of old friends too, which was lovely – I’d literally not seen either of them in years.
And then, last Friday, I went out. I don’t go out out very often. I’m boring now, and have to be up in the morning and things, but I thought sod it, it’s nearly Christmas, so I dressed up and went to a town I used to go to often when I was a much younger man. And it was good. Fun was had. But it was so different to how it used to be. Not in a bad way, just different. A lot can change it ten years, I know I certainly have. And change is something, historically, I’ve not been very good with. I’m better with it now, I think. And it got me to thinking, and that, in turn, got me to writing something (pretty lazily and quickly) over the weekend: a small poem which the lovely folks over on Facebook seemed to like so I thought I’d share it here. Sod it. It is nearly Christmas, after all.
I went back there last night
and I walked the same streets that we walked
when we were young.
When you smiled every time we held hands
like I did too.
When we danced and laughed
or simply sat and breathed the same air
in cafes and bars, happy.
But those bars and those cafes were gone
when I walked our streets.
That place had changed
and I wondered that if I saw you I’d think you’d changed
as much as our place had
and if, maybe,
my memory of you
and that place,