MixTape 41 - Last Winter - 2021/2022

Winter Solstice swallowed us in it's all reaching circle, arms held wide, it felt so easy. Does it matter, should it matter how we were in love, spinning under the October sky.. x

Held in winter’s expectant grasp, she led

her quiet dance across snow fields, cold

Winter Solstice swallowed in whole flame

wild fire like a circle, arms held wide, easy

Does it matter, should it matter, how we were

in love, spinning under an October sky

 

Coupled like lambs at Newgrange we leaped

through mirrored frames following sun rays

right down the line toward a blind horizon

beyond any barrier they tried to hold us in

we remained oblivious to their foolish lies

though someone else might realise it wasn't time

 

Head bent close, breath held tight, you said

I wish you peace in your heart and that was all

I needed to feel at home in the corner of my sky

Where thoughts reside in simultaneous parallel

and all seasons bloom together as one great turn

Oak and Ash holding together one year into another

2021 left us before 2022 had begun its own song

The ship song it was they sang as we waved

a fond farewell to all that had come before, bricks

and mortar holding together fast as atom two

clutches atom three and one in its tender embrace

and they sang Hari Ram over and over which

 

made you frown but it don’t bother me, I fell

into ocean view and lost myself. Is it just me

running on this Night train at Sundown waiting

for Sunset to wrap me in her arms until I can

dance with somebody other than Charlie and

his soft dinosaur - most treasured telepath and seer

Snow

It doesn’t snow here very often
but when it does it’s bitterly cold
the kind of cold that blows up your jumper
and won’t leave no matter how many layers you pile on,
the kind of cold that whistles deep into your ear drums
and lays a fearsome frost on all your extremities.
 
A cold that constantly whips around your exposed forehead
chattering noisily though you can never make out
a cognizant sound never mind a word. So much chatter
but nothing to go on, nothing to ease the chilling pains.
A distant cold that will never explain itself clearly
but will insist on mustering on dolefully
 
muttering between incoherent grumps and groans
making you feel as though you were to blame
for all this damn coldness freezing your fingertips
scorching your tongue on the too hot hot chocolate he gave you.
The kind of cold that watches your tears roll
and has nothing to say to them..

The kind of cold that leaves without due courtesy
leaving you wondering if you truly exist
or are just a fragment of the cold’s imagination,
or your own - and who are you anyway, with or without the cold?
It starts of as just a few falling flecks
that you could easily dismiss as rain -
 
unpleasant but to be expected, then, before you know it
the ground is covered in slippery gloom and white fear settles
on the roof of your heart, your mind’s pavements
turn invisible underneath the grey slush,
and in the sorry light of a streetlamp
a torrent of frosty flakes tumbles senselessly
 
around the corners of this wretched afternoon.
You turn indoors, turn away, tear your mind from ice
to less overwhelming matter, wipe away
remaining tears, find a tissue to mop up the snuffles,
blow out the whole day, inhale a breath of silence
and feel grateful that it doesn’t snow here very often.