Song For Beth Poem by jim hogg

We never danced in all those years,
now I can't speak and you can't hear,
but we both know the future's past,
all howled away through sheets and masts,
in harbours left and harbours missed:
the sounds of life unravelling,
the aftermath of tinder hearts,
and all consuming question marks.
What if we could have pulled it off,
a masterpiece of blended flaws?

I see us yet in Holland Street,
the tenements all blasted clean.
It's early days, it's early March;
a Corporation bus growls past,
the seventies about to end,
but time was not an issue then.
The Griffin's not too far away.
I clear my throat and try to say:
"I pulled the house down by myself"...
when youth was sunlight, youth was verve.

Naifs at large we never knew
the future was so sly and dour.
You had a life, a spread of things,
a wealth of choice and openings,
until I banished both of us
to wasted time and distances,
because I chose to not refuse
the gentle sanctuary of you,
to hold your placid gaze once more;
yon calm blue sea and sandy shore.

As fishing boats trawled north and south,
we lay alone on hallowed ground,
regaled by whispers of the sea,
and distant voices on the breeze
that carried off beyond the bay,
towards that not so distant age
beneath a sultry august sky;
the bales of hay were seven high
and you were only seventeen,
with mysteries and rosy cheeks.

The field was lined with hawthorn trees
that stretched away to English scenes,
beyond the gate we should have closed,
beyond this wading with these ghosts.
There's tragedy in everything.
I'm stricken by the sadness in
the sunlight on my arms and hands,
the watching world on riverbanks,
the birdsong coming from the trees,
and wish I could have been your dream.


(adapted from A Dream Reflects.
Words and music 23 07 20)