Rail tracks ran on that embankment
where we naively played, where we escaped the man –
suspecting us of setting fires, or damaging the lines –
who chased us on his crutches…
Yesterday is always far away and faded.
What have we grown into, now scattered near and far?
He died young. London called, he went and led the way.
He was a wimp. He was a father at nineteen.
He joined the RAF. He worked in radio.
He settled down at home. He studied medicine.
He had an inky pen. He built his own business.
He counted beans for government at county hall…
She was a pharmacist. She was a dancing queen.
She moved away, to grow up in the Highlands.
She played music in a band. She packed bags of fruit.
She lost her character to her religious sect.
She became a farmer’s wife. She worked in finance.
She sold tat to tourists, believing she was smart…
My cousin was a porter in a Bournemouth hotel
while another owned a mansion in Sandbanks;
one lived an honest life and fought her chronic pain,
another was a dean in cell biology…
I saw and wove patterns, from threads that formed a path:
strands of words and numbers I hadn’t known made tracks
Maintain the Advance! 