Coming Home From Kieth’s House - Poem by John Tansey
Coming home from dinner with true friends,
I had too much to drink,
so you took the wheel to drive.
It was a fine wintry night
and out of the clear, cold sky
the stars were voluminous and crystalline.
The full moon lit the country routes we drove along.
My eyes, aglaze, with the sparkling champagne of stars,
I outstreched my hand to catch them in my glass.
But it was our future, still pliable, with countless constellations
of how it could take form.
'The Stars were ours for the asking, ' I said
But you were quiet. You would not talk to me
'Had to go and get drunk again', you said
and then, the punishing silence.
'We could have any star for a future, ' I said
'Shut up', you said, succinctly. I did
because you'd rather scream than listen. I sobered quickly.
Parking the car, you rushed upstairs
The twenty-four hour leave was over, our ceasefire had ended.
So, I sat alone for a moment in my happiness designed for two.
Then I opened the door, got out and looked toward the sky.
The stars for our future were gone, washed out by the city lights...
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