Sunday, 30 June 2013


I went back to places we visited
Long ago, or only a few months back
Maybe to reminisce bring a vain smile to my face
Capture anew, fragmentary, that old spark

Going back made me feel old
Perhaps it was only just the chill of winter's breath
On my exposed neck, no collar had my jacket
And each barren tree grey-limbed, close to death

Like memories, really, those untrustworthy motes
In the brain, swirling like changing tides
Oceans exploding in confusion, furious churning
Each memory a picture painting a thousand lies

Going back is like admitting defeat
Trying to find purpose in casual things you've said
Deciphering long gone messages for double meanings
Like a grave robber digging up the dead

Best to let these things lie, give them peace
Bury them, if you have to, but oh... not I
I'm simply too tenacious in wanting to plunder the truth
Even that which is most obvious, easy to deny

Maybe there were soft looks, underneath the diamond cutting glance
Those last few looks you shot at me before walking away
But only fools walk backwards unmindful of the peril
Only fools chase memories like the night chases the day.