Old School Blazer

There was certainly a small book of Prayer
“Whatever his path take him safely there.”
To where? God only knows and amen to all that.
Heaven’s icy flow, meanwhile slowed then was shattered.

Matchstick, feather and peppermint drop,
additional flotsam smothered in fluff,
Cough sweet furred.
Watch that never ticked or tocked.
Marble? Maybe a gobstopper,
It all seems a bit of a blur.

A diary with no stuff in it.
No, sorry.(I have never been able to apologise enough)
Entry fixed in time “1st Jan. ’65-
Frog stuck in frozen pond,behind a log,
back of beyond, our pet dog whined.”

Every other line blank
So many other ways of passing the time.
One sprig of luckless heather.

Written, down line from a Beatles song.
Can’t remember exactly which one.
“Mother Natures Son?”
No; White Album still not come and gone.

Creased sheet, lyric of slow school hymn.
“Our honour defeats all sin and fame,
Behave like a bastard and you’ll end up insane."

Copy of receipt from clinic to pay,
35 pounds for her overnight stay.
It’s a terrible thing, such a terrible thing,
to have to keep running from a wild reckless fling.

A letter marked by a confessional tone,
Sat in school toilets, felt so alone.
Some things I care not to mention.
Like those lies, how I cried,
the mess of it all.

So there it is, plain as a day is long,
though now they seem impossibly short.
Rivers of regret continue to swell,
too wide to swim back over