(For Gladys Williams, 1918 – 2021)
My friend we’re the same.
We talk of flowers and good people.
We share tea and keep the flame of memories burning;
express disdain at the power wheel turning –
spin repeat, spin repeat.
But we are roads laid at different times.
A generation or two picking at the cracks between,
playing the fine line of
the three tenses supreme;
ourselves selecting the common seams
and turning a quiet blind eye
to the noise.
What does a century tell you?
To love deeply,
to yearn softly,
to eat well and cherish sleep.
To hold dreams lightly,
squeeze passions tightly –
spin, repeat, spin, repeat.
