In his mind he sees a blue pool
only it isn’t blue or just blue,
it’s wavering glass
with lines of gold that thread
Water laps and slops in a lazy way
laps and slaps, slops and lops.
He cannot remember when it was
he just knows that sunshine on water
is his world – floating, flying
suspended on air,
gold slabs of sun, thick blocks of light
shafting down from the windows
all the rest in dark shadow.
A pool is a cathedral
echoey and concentrated
in its purpose, swimming
is a prayer, he reaches another place
a peace like nothing else.
But what he writes in the Journal is:
He kneels on his bed
chin cupped in his hands
staring at the whiteness
outside his window
lit by a ghostly full moon.
His Nan has gone,
but the world goes on;
Jubilee estate has a strange beauty
a mysterious quietness
that reaches into his troubled heart.
Inside he’s glad
he’s here to see it.
Diamond Twig web site