page - six
FRESCOS IN A TIME TUNNEL
Some days I am in the garden
wandering about - as time goes by
flowers bloom and birds sing
gentle breeze shiver through the leaves.
Other days I sit on my settee
or stand by the window of my room;
dark clouds spread across the sky
sunshine cannot dislodge the gloom.
I come out and sit in my hammock
my old depression friend puts an arm around me;
but today, it�s a different story -
today I have a letter from home.
It explains how the old trams screech,
sway - negotiating the bends,
how the double-deckers exhale diesel
people crowd on its foot-plate in rain.
Images parade before my eyes
as my mind fills with dreams,
in basking sunshine under the willow tree,
I travel through the tunnel of time.
When I wake up in my hammock
I feel happy again;
watching frescos along the tunnel
scaling the delights in my brain.
Nothing�s new or exciting -
though the letter covers three pages;
same old stories on different paper,
still, a letter from home.