by Peter Humphreys

as city sheep
they wander
doing what
they think
they need
or so they tell them

grey everywhere
where once
blossoms dazzled
on meadows free
where we first loved
so recklessly
yet other faces
show despair
lovers weary
love so mean

where are the swallows now?
whence the skylarks?
doves beg
sinister crows
wait for crumbs
from careless eaters
plastic everywhere
grey buildings
grey skies
I have no place here now

Yes, I let my grey hair grow
but my beard is black,
like the native bog
where thence I wandered
as childfree
no one worried
or called me home
'til fire sparked
and embers flew
late into the blue slate sky
yet still, the mysterious lights were there
deep down on western skies

my memories
and hopes
are never grey
my life is never grey
not me
not you


Posted on 12/27/2018
Copyright © 2019 Peter Humphreys

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/28/18 at 04:39 PM

I love the way you have balanced this grey world out with your own personal reality and its positive place in it. Personal note - as I go softly and slowly grey, my slightly older husband seems to be keeping his black locks (how can that be?! :))

Posted by Rob Littler on 12/28/18 at 09:45 PM

...it reminds me reality is a state of my mind in accord with feelings, memories, experience... all of which can feel real, as real as the heart and mind itself, yet more somehow... all that bound in the nostalgia embedded in the past... with the saving grace that time is only measured as now, and not... .

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