Letter To Veronica Poem by jim hogg

These seasons keep on turning round.
Again, the birds are flying south.
This morning everything was white -

I hope you're keeping warm at night.
For days the frost's been taking hold;
It seems that all the world's grown cold

while I've been sitting by this flame
determined not to write your name,
but last night after listening to

a certain song, I dreamed of you.
So, I went back to where we met,
(afraid that I might soon forget!)

that night we sat beneath the clock,
in yon posh pub beside the Cross.
Sometimes it seems a world away

but now and then I feel you there,
beside me on the leather seat,
when nervously our eyes would meet,

and tremulous, our voices broke
the silence that would later cloak,
this exile I can never quit

(though all these reasons I insist
are justified, don't cut much ice
with this contrary heart of mine) .

I wish I could remember more:
a touch, a word, at your front door,
but like a seed sown in the wind

it must have seemed a little thing:
no witnesses or angels wept.
No promise made, no promise kept,

we hardly left a trace behind
for history's vain sleuths to find,
nor version of the past in which

we dreamed a dream, still unfulfilled,
where destiny might once have locked
together, paths that barely crossed.

And yet, there was a swirl in time
when possibilities were ripe;
when many futures lay in wait,

as you and I approached the gate.
But from that flux we chose to pluck
the one that left us out of luck.

Had older folks just looked ahead,
or local Nostradamus said
that you and I would one day meet,

in your backyard or on the street,
they might have taken steps to shape
the steps that you and I might take,

or nudged us not to where we are,
but on towards a brighter star;
away from this peculiar "place",

where we can't venture face to face,
but still contrive to catch a glimpse,
or sometimes just a fleeting sense,

of all the love we didn't share,
of all the love that might be where
we left it latent one spring night,

between the Cross and Penpont's light.
But none of them, nor you and I,
foresaw just how the land would lie,

or moment when I failed to see
the way that led from you to me.
Or maybe not; we'll never know.

But I remember letting go,
one afternoon down by the Nith,
as you walked over Auldgirth Bridge.

I watched you all the way across
and knew full well what I had lost.
But still, I couldn't bring myself

to let you know, to break the spell.
And though these lines dwell on the past
I know the present's where you are:

not looking back, not broken down,
still confident, still looking round
the endless corner of this life.

And aye, our need for love abides
and you'll embrace it without fear
while I hide here behind a shield

of arguments that don't disclose:
it's easier to be alone.
I wonder if that's really why

I've scribbled this unsent reply?
Despite this longing for your lips
and thoughts of taking that short trip!

It's maybe time then for an end
to matters we can never mend:
the breeze that touched us, then moved on

the birds that sang and then were gone
the memories we never made
the little details life mislaid

- before the frost had taken hold,
before the world had all grown cold,
long after we had crossed the Nith,

towards Penpont one long gone spring;
when promise filled "the night we met";
when there was nothing to regret.

The ties that bind were never tied,
and it's too late now for goodbye,
but I suppose that's what this is;

and I won't patronise you with
a slew of hopes - you'll have your own -
or mention love, whose sting you've known.

But if you'll let me make one wish:
a simple thing; it's only this,
that now and then, and here and there,

some sparks of joy will light your way.
And I'll remember while I can
those gentle eyes so deep and dark,

your heart, your curves, your beauty too
and this old scar I got from you!
Soon, all these frozen leaves will clear,

and you'll be in your garden, dear.
The sun will climb above the trees,
and all your blooms will dazzle bees.

Those roving birds will soon return,
and ice will thaw on Glentress Burn.


jim

171217