Diffuse

Easter Sunday it is. Bright sunshine on the garden, and through the East-facing windows. The Audacious Red ink has arrived, complete with Lamy fountain pen. All that is needed now, is a return of the inspiration which caused the purchase in the first place.

That is unlikely, let's be realistic, if we don't catch hold of the muse in the moment we don't catch hold of her at all. Note to self, always, always write things down, don't wait for the prestigious instruments to assist you.

Image courtesy of Nelly Antoniadou on Unsplash

The football was a return to the sad old ways, where mistakes were made, almost without effort, focussed as it were on the confusion brought on by the many-faced spectre of relegation.

Yet there is a light, for I remember the day of the play-off final, which got us back into this championship place the last time we were relegated. Bring it on I say. Let us regroup and rebuild, let us get back to winning ways. Does that, in any way, sound familiar?

Here is the poem:

Overnighter

Between the absence

And the concert hall

As one day

Follows yet another

On the steps

And the flagstones

Past dancers and drinkers

In search of oblivion

Where then the casualties

Or those just hanging on

Let loose the daybreak

As we open our eyes

The first shoots

Of new blossoms

The first breath

Of cool clear air

What was once

Is not ever anymore

Where there is space

Once was confusion

Raindrops

On railing spikes and thorns

In the grey light

Of a city morning