An ode to memory
to a walk taken perhaps unwittingly on a quiet afternoon
An ode to unknown softness
To the curious eye which sweeps me towards the unknown
To the stranger who became friend
To a day when we should have gone to separate parts of the same city.
To the shadow which chased my camera through steep passages towards a comprehension.
There are thoughts which lead only to the lane of nostalgia, to entertain memory on a quiet afternoon.
A softness brushes past the city where now divided the game has been lost.
To the ruins of purity, to the decline of idealism; she planted the spring bulbs in vague hope.
A quietness that comes in the early hours; thoughts that have no place but rest recycled when appropriate.
A stagnant voice repeats his grievances. Tone denounced informal. Exit stage.
A softness between seas. A hapless feature labelled ‘potential.’
To become? To fall? To wait?
The dandelion carries my wish silently
Towards such departure, becoming soothed by the impression of comfort.
We walk a little faster. Lest we should forget.
lest we should forget
Urban re:passages 