The Transit Of Venus Poem by Jim Young

The tapestry has been darned,
Dross threadbare gold.
The scene can be seen - just,
But it looks so old and so cold.
A miniature of the masterpiece,
For he has stepped outside.
It is smaller, it is older,
He is older.
Both have been darned.

Old buildings have gone.
New buildings irritate.
Lanes of memory brambled,
Overgrown, stand waiting.
The gutters spluttering,
Game for a laugh,
Brook no more fun.
The artisans have lost their hands.
Handsome in their talent
They relent.

The transit of Venus.

Shops, cheek to jowl,
Gone!
No argument,
Gone!

Pubs forested.
Chapels shrunk.
The child's excursion
End to end,
Took time.
Now time takes time.
The adult recoils,
The village stares incredulous.
Who is this old man lost?
Who used to cycle - look no hands!
Who used to... used to...
No mind now,
Too late.
Too late in the day.

Summer has overgrown Autumn.
Cold will anneal.
As I kneel
Wrapped in the old tapestry.

Look!

The children of Spring are dancing.

The transit of Venus.