SEEDS

    

           SEEDS

               1

On a Sunday in mid-summer

right at the edge of the park

You come to me;

talking future plans

shining eyes

and a heart that dared.

We saw ourselves

buying a car to travel

down to the coast

whenever we took the urge.

All planned out under the elm

of eager spreading roots.

Many seeds scattered

ideas with wings on the breeze

hope floating all the way

towards the sea along winding

open-windowed roads.

             

             2

Smashed in spring – the last                              

season you inhaled;

lying singing on the back seat.

The front driver’s side was saved,

letting me drive

to dreams that died.

Dreams have a way

Of coming at you by the front

And leaving by the back door.

I pass it now, the car

In the scrap yard

At the edge of the town

It’s only half now.