Late Show Poem by J.L. Nash

It’s like this he said as he wandered down the street
It’s like this and he held out a leaf on a tree
Took out a pen and wrote leaf
The road was cobbled the alleyway narrow
She looked at him
Missing completely the ink upon the green

The tenderness afforded quickly fell away
As taxis disappeared into black lit streets across the river
Leaves surrender at the end of the season
And although the changes were welcomed
Every now and then she’d hope to espy
A narrow alleyway at around 6.30 pm
As if it might lead to the river
As if it might show a taxi rank
As if that leaf might still be there

But leaves are like poems
Once written and read
Only the temporal remains
For a second the emotion accompanying the viewing
Stores itself away
And glimpses of life
Are like interviews on the Late Show
Funny in parts, fleeting, often inconsequential
Except there’s still the memory of that leaf