The Pages of a Day

a ripple in space,

a warp in time

and a leafy memory

turns the pages

 

a dog eared day

thumbs its way

down the watery lanes

of muddy battlefields

 

where an agenda

plants ice cold rivets

into metallic hearts.

there to rust

 

that iron oxide

is not magnetic

no flecks of gold

glisten in sunlight

 

the sepia kaleidoscope,

an unnourished rainbow

at the end of the pier which

wears out of season shutters

 

that bench cut deep

with initials and hearts

and those 4 evers,

hopes vainly for a haunting

 

a seagull worries

some soggy chips

as damp puddles

reflect upon a year

 

there are no voices here

save for the wind’s whisper

and the sea’s rustle

as tiny pebbles sigh on the beach

 

the Christmas lights

are jauntily gawky

flickering in the grey

grey, of a falling day

 

an envelope of dampness

wraps this little parcel

no name tag to attach

well not anymore

 

pink candyfloss in a bin

drips watery tears, silently

a bucket and a spade

with no castles to build

 

are abandoned in the corner

the harlequin windmill

angled deep in its guts

still turns, just a little

 

as night falls on tip toes

the curtains draw pictures

on the face of town

and sodium, yellows the streets

 

snug on all the sofas

the TV remote controls

are batons in the conductors hands

as the sweet nocturnes now sound

 

a ripple in space,

a warp in time

and a leafy memory

turns the pages of another day