The Tracks Of My Years

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The Tracks Of My Years


We sat cross legged in summer dusk

A smoky haze passing through

Admired artwork airbrushed

In fantastic swirls of colour

Reading words in synchronised

Staccato with the music

Flowing from the stereo


Simpler times

Longer hair

No aching joints


I wish we could do that again

But friends disappear like exhaled smoke

And some are stubbed out

And some have grown up


I still listen to that vinyl

Scratched and well worn

Like a hug from a teenager

Who thought he knew it all


I miss you all - you hippie freaks

You metal dudes - you denim genes

I miss you all


But the music gathers you around

And for a while I’m back with friends

Long gone

Long lost

But never forgotten

When the needle hits the track


◄ Jubilee


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Hazel ettridge

Fri 17th Jun 2022 09:39

Love it. Bittersweet (my favourite word as I head for those hills).

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Graham Sherwood

Thu 16th Jun 2022 23:14

Love it Ian. I’ve just finished a collection covering this very same topic. It feels like an ache to me. Good work!


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Stephen Atkinson

Thu 16th Jun 2022 22:36

But friends disappear like exhaled smoke
Love that. In fact, the whole poem is music to my ears...or, rather, eyes!
Nice one

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