Unreachable High Poem by Stuart Doggett

I look to the past so fondly
At the flags flying there,
The complicated flutters,
The brilliant colours
Waving back at me.

But putting the needle in my hand
Doesn’t have the same effect,
Patches and holes,
Scratches and falls,
Tatters that rustle the breeze.

Words that fell so easily
Cast shadows in the light,
Hide the new,
Tough to grow,
Hard to find the way up from below.

Colours keep on falling
Into vanishing space,
Words can't grow,
Nothing can renew,
Disappear before they were ever there.

Broken leaves drift across the floor,
Broken colours,
Broken words
And broken flags
Concealed behind closed doors.