memoirs, art and fragments by Thomas Milner

Archive for November 26, 2011

I remember it well

All our notions and ideas,

All our fears and desires,

They pursue us down ever-narrowing rivers,

Down ever-decreasing fields of choice,

Ever-frailer bifurcations

Until we are left clutching at leaves,

Autumnal leaves ghostly and dream-like,

Fading and evanescent in the misty dusk.

I remember it well – driving along snow-driven moorland road, my headlights illuminating white diagonal swathes in the silence of that dark white night.

I remember the jakes at school, wet, cold and clammy and the four-hundred-year-old cedar tree on the ancient grass, propped-up by poles.

Poles Convent girls dancing with the pure-at-heart and that brown-eyed lady of the lowlands,

I remember her well.



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