.
sad december skies haunt my thoughts as I drive
skirting south of the stage set of my younger days:
my home town, seldom visited now. lemon light
can’t warm the chill around my heart,
the chill of life unlived, or lived awry, and in greater part
treasured only in hopeless hindsight.
the motorway speeds me away, in flight into deepest cheshire:
the light is cream soda in clouds,
the scenes so familiar and utterly alien
at both ends of my journey.
Chris Proudfoot, 2021
It’s hard to come to terms with something so devastating. I hope you are finding some spark of joy. I feel for you. Take care of yourself.
He was, truly, Clare. And I miss him so. I knew Chris for over half a century. I read this poem as part of my eulogy for Chris at his funeral. I am collecting his poems for posthumous publication.
This is from your friend? He was a wonderful poet. Cream soda clouds!💕💕💕
If you wish to post a comment you must login.
This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.
John Marks
Sun 18th Jun 2023 22:03
Clare. I have a collie/spaniel cross, Woody; so the joy is taken care of! J