(Let’s take a walk)
Knee-deep in nettles and the weather tipping change –
Thick silt raising spirits
Beating through the new-grown neural pathways.
Footsteps sounding in my shadow
Stepping on the heels of a hot new take
And ghosts crowding the airwaves.
Steel drum love songs in a counterfeit night
The last time –
(The last time).
Hairstyles may change but the rhythm stays the same –
Thames Clippers snake below like something slipping away.
They’ll dig us up in a thousand years
And dust off the bone-idle lust:
Tripping along the path to the weir
Past the bolder-hearted boulders,
Down where the agitated sediments
Kicked up tea-cup tempests,
Stirring sugar sentiments
In over-brewed brooding tar pits;
But the love-note motes settled finally –
Where the boats sit like index fossils,
And weathered Wisdom sits weaving
A striated riverside history. They’ll build a quarry one day,
And with visceral granite s