what was it
that I was chasing
way back when
I rode my dreams
by sea and Downs
and river paths
and later
holding onto
aquamarine railings
a hungover sun
squinting on the horizon
gulls prospecting
the promenade
for breakfast
before the tramps
rose from their slumbers
like preserved timbers
exposed at low tides
I wanted
what they wanted
a dream of something
out of reach
soaked in sun
and Special Brew
the shingle on the beach
made us stagger
drunk on love
and laughter
but love is a lie
you said
but I wouldn’t believe that
I kept on chasing
chasing . . .
chasing . . .
-
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I did a lot of chasing too – although never really could say what. If only we had the wisdom of hindsight….sigh.
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chasers make the best poets 😉
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I guess we do!
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I love the way you have utilised structure in this, it really sets the scene of chasing. 🙂
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Thanks Hannah. I don’t usually write like this but somehow it seemed to call out for that kind of structure. Glad you liked it. All the best, Colin.
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