I wrote this after a visit to an old people's home. I was hoping to gather some memories of times past. Fortunately, I was lucky, "Uncle Al Hymer" was absent for that day and the old folk were able to remember and be glad.
They sit there dreaming of the sky
And times long gone
Waking suddenly they cry
At tea gone cold
They know the rhythm of the day
And know not name or grace
They wait in unknowing splendour
For the dawn
When God's cool hand will touch their brow
And painted shadows come
But then they wait so long
And tea grows cold beside their hands
As fettered darkness fogs the mind
And yesterday is but today
Along life's brief and drifting sands
Then they are gone
No more will gentle memories be told
In fragment garments for us to wear
Their essence vanished like a prayer
And we the poorer walk away
To greet another blighted sun
And wish to hold them for a while
Before our own remembrance has gone
R.K.C. 26-4-01
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About the author:
Richard Walker is an English author who has had these four books published in hardback version and is now presenting his work in electronic form: Sing A Song of Stopsley, To Catch The Shadow of The Moon, The Ballad of Baggy Mag, and Vox Angelicus (The angel voices of Luton). Read about them here: ebooks