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I am a great admirer of English poetry from the time of Chaucer up until the middle of the twentieth century when it appeared to lose its way. I love all aspects of this planet but are sometimes sad when I think of what we are doing to it.

Friday 22 September 2023

The Watcher and The Rain

While the rain turned roads into mirrors

I saw you standing lonely there;

Your face so pale and empty,

dull beads of raindrops in your hair.

You looked both lost and lovely,

Your eyes wide and forlorn.

Endlessly searching for someone

with eyes seeming only to mourn.

For whom were you searching that evening?

Was it a lover you so longed to meet?

Had he said he’d be there that hour

to hold and to kiss on the street?

I could have moved closer to greet you,

I could have said “Look, here I am.

like you I am alone in the greyness,

lost and alone, just a man.

You have been forsaken this evening.

He lies with another, not you.

I have no-one to hold or to worship

but you and I shall love and be true.”

But I watched as you tightened your raincoat

and I stood like a thing carved from stone

as you walked sadly into the darkness.

I sighed and I went home alone.

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