Late November
Damp air, sticky, misty horizon,
stiff mud under foot, scarves
pulled tight, gloved
in the greenwood
stripped with leaves
of snow.
All I remember
are the neutral tones
of a beery afternoon,
long ago. Chris knew
all the names, Latin &
vernacular, of the plants
& birds of the Cheshire
plain. Nobody came &
nobody went as we
marched into the 1970s
with such thoughtless trepidation.
We shared a cigarette
& a nip of Glenfiddich
from a shiny steel flask.
I often wonder what
happened to that flask.
John Marks
Sun 23rd Oct 2022 17:26
Thanks Stephen, sometimes reminiscence hurts.
You must have seen great changes since you were a young man," said Winston tentatively. The old man's pale blue eyes moved from the darts board to the bar, and from the bar to the door of the Gents ... "The beer was better," he said finally. "And cheaper! When I was a young man, mild beer - wallop we used to call it - was fourpence a pint. That was before the war, of course." "Which war was that?" said Winston. "It's all wars," said the old man vaguely. He took up his glass, and his shoulders straightened again. "'Ere's wishing you the very best of 'ealth!