Pop Music Poem by Donatien Moisdon

As life is drained away from me, and heart-beat
weakens with every day, and as reality
collapses in a heap,
a worn out tune will try to bring back memories
and resurrect the joys of many wilted years.

It sings of June lizards, squeaky cart wheels, dry mud,
long rows of hypnotic, whispering poplar trees,
trout fishing from sandy half-moons on river banks,
dragon-flies, bumble-bees and warm, sleepy gardens.

Mornings would bring along thin scarves of meadow mist
and wrap them on the bluish slates of our roof.

The silent, crystal-white perfection of the stars
would ascend, every night, an unpolluted sky.

Beyond the reassuring peace of the valley
beckoned another peace and another valley
whose false infinity, false immortality
made us believe in Good and helped us live a lie.