Just down the road before you turn
and perhaps, just for this morning, the road beyond turns into a mistily forbidden realm that was never there before.
The tide,
standing between the rippling mysteries of blue weave and the world I have run away from…
holding some of the tumble,
the churn,
the rhythm
in the depths of my spirit
before I have to go back.
A place at the back of the room,
where the quiet ones sit with their heads buried in their hands,
and me making quick raids on the conversation, sharing hints of a thing that will never feel quite ready to share.
A heart, sharing a moment,
seeing mine between platforms…
cradling her legs on a bench in a bus stop –
Sorry.
I didn’t realise I was staring.
For a moment there, you just looked like so many places I used to hide in.
9 responses to “Poetry by John Hulme Last of The Betweens”
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