Old Poem

An old poem that I re-read today, it made me think of England where I wrote some of the rough draft. It was also inspired by Louis MacNeice's wonderful Autumn Journal. It is appropriate for how wistful I feel today, writing and reading do help in forgetting.

YOU MY MEMORY

You were a secret I could not hold
a wish written on old bark found near a mountain chapel

you were the prayer said among stones and the darkest sea
words and musical notes to guide hearts,
you were mist once floating above fountains and quads
no one wrote for you, to you, but night came, and candles burnt,

You were cities we forgot to visit but only watched from train cars
letting the breeze go thru our bodies, our faces
you were the poem I left on a bench near Hampstead Heath
left it for memories and the future that had missed me.