Wednesday 24 June 2009

The Toll Bell

I regret
not going to the places I want to know
Waterhouse at the Royal Academy
Carmen at the Corn Exchange
Oita in summer
with my brother and his girl
Barbecues and canapes
with friends who live miles away.
If I should die (not tomorrow)
but soon,
I regret
no punts on a lazy afternoon
drifting by colleges
I do not belong to -
but that surely belong to me
in some Circadian fantasy?
I regret
twelve long years of Monsoon
unseen, unfelt, unheard, unreal
to me
who once knew the rhythms of her city.
I regret
not playing the piano, the cello, the violin
I do not regret
lullabies my mother used to sing
to soothe my insomniac self
at five and eight
and now,
when we share this hell
of not knowing
what is to come, and
what will be lost,
and worst of all,
playing the What If game -
I regret that
most of all.
blog comments powered by Disqus