by Richard Vince

This song was always the first
When I gently placed the old LP
On the turntable, and let the needle
Penetrate the transparent skin of dust
Keeping the secrets held by the corkscrew groove.

Once the gradually more familiar sounds
Of my mother's teenage years began to
Emanate from ancient speakers to
Either side of me, I would lay down in the
Middle of the floor with a blank sheet
Of paper in front of me, and create
Masterpieces of engineering that
History forgot to include, or that were to
Feature in whatever future the world was
Then envisaging, or I would create
Evocatively named cities that revolved around
My ideal bus network.

Now, those drawings hide in sketch pads
And folders and binders that hide
In crowded wardrobes or under
Stacks of old magazines and
Out of date timetables that hark back
To the bygone age of that audio
Time capsule that sits with
Its brethren in the alcove they have
Occupied as long as I can remember.

And I am left to wonder what
Those funny looking men with their
Flares and moustaches are doing while
I sit here and avoid my day's work
And miss a girl that even my overactive
Childhood imagination could not have created.
I hear stories about disputes and
"Artistic differences", and hope that these
Were only temporary, and did not prevent
Those smiling, optimistic men not much older
Than I am now from making beauty
For today's ears to bathe in.


Posted on 08/17/2004
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Megan Langley on 01/03/05 at 12:36 AM

I really like the image you create with this poem. I also love the words you chose to use. This is my fav line -- "and let the needle Penetrate the transparent skin of dust Keeping the secrets held by the corkscrew groove." -- awesome :)

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