Generation Why?

The personal blogg of a late-night scribbler...

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Location: Coventry, Warwickshire, United Kingdom

I am a 30 year old part-time English teacher and postgraduate student. I prefer red wine to white, cats to dogs and lazy Sunday mornings to any other kind of morning you care to mention. I have a love of tea, chocolate biscuits and rate Llamas as amongst the most entertaining of animals. Spiritually ambivalent and politically bewildered, I seem to spend a lot of time reading the news and getting unnecessarily anxious about it. Italian food, French cheese and pizza will always be met with smiles and is a sure fire way to win me over. My hair is a mess and I wear spectacles.

Sunday, June 26, 2005

Making a table

Untitled

Belongings faded so soon boxed away
All to be tightly held beneath a hasty promise
The dark places of our shared existence
Shorn from glitzy frames and tacked
Upon unsightly walls within a house
Unknown to me, as patterns of years
Run us past, so ceremoniously withheld

Remember I folded our old cotton sheets
Fingers turned to lines of a shared memory
Run through sleep, so many times
Through the wash, loose threads settle sun
Down, face down amongst the torn paper
Of our worlds, our empty spaces upon the walls
Which call an awkward silence profound

So darkly lit, and yet, so deeply felt
As in the letters we forgot to send
Only made to gather, as a moth
To the shade, all but an immaterial sagging
A breathless weight so ill conceived,
We spared a favourite record without its sleeve,
A voice breaking runs to argument

We read deeply in our mistakes
You and I, though the ink of our affection
Is not yet dry, I know you will keep something
Of me, close as letters, to read again some place
Far from our days and weeks and hours
When roses retuned to flowers
And all that once belonged shall fade away

PCW