'Reverie' Poem by Rick Green

I sit like Whistler’s mother
Or Abraham Lincoln
Staring bolt ahead
At passing shadows

Or into a mirror
Recapturing flickering
Images
A montage
Of moments past

My private “Recherche du temps perdu”

We wandered
The Highlands and islands
In search of serendipity
And crossed to Ireland with our
Twin donkey pulled ‘open lot bow top’
Caravan
Candle lighted
With a Queenie stove.

Each morning
Laughing
Hunting breakfast eggs
From our free ranging hens

Campfire evenings
Me on the concertina
And you on the mandolin

Sitting beneath the stars

Singing together
Favourite
Wistful
Songs

I grew a beard
And wrote a little
Performed a little
We made enough
From busking
And the passing tide
Of new best friends forever

Soon forgotten
Who valued the craftwork
We traded;
Dream catchers, wrist bands

Trinkets for drinks.

We had our children -
Two
(and nearly three)

A tragic miscarry

And settled out of sight
In a cabin
In a Kilkenny woodland
The dying owner
Bequeathed us
In perpetuity

Good friends ‘just passing by’
Stayed whole summers
Laughing long in ceilidh
Dancing too much
Drinking too much
Banjaxing their liver
Bathing in the river
Sunbathing naked
If and when the rain abated.

So many full moon nights
Of loving together
Ageing together
Greying together

In time
Our bodies
Failing together

So very nearly

Almost perfectly

One

In spirit and in soul.