Bandstand Poem by Jerry Pike

Jerry Pike

Harrow, London, England

Bandstand



Bandstand

I saw you there, among invisible notes,
by a melancholy bandstand,
that drifted musically through my head.
I knew you straight away,
by mental shape,
and preconceived ideas.
The bandstands hat,
conquered by a weather vane,
tilted slightly, in a forties arrogance.
The rain stole drumming for its own, that day
and skated down tiles into slalom eternity.
Sprinkling our conversation
towards the yellow gushing brass buttons
that spotted his navy blazer.
Silent airs drifted up, their instruments long gone,
imaginary men, play with patriotic passion,
rocking to their own invisibleness.
Our garden green bench,
oil painted from memory,
was heavily laden in our myth.
Speaking, we circled
those grey, youth-worn tarmac paths.
Then staring up into the eaves of life,
we spied a bird’s nest full of starving hopes,
that I let you feed.

But you wouldn’t remember.

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Jerry Pike

Harrow, London, England
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