The ones thought lost never go away
find in you a place anchor and stay
on a rainy evening such as this
they come to your mind plant there a wish.

The girl you loved but never got to tie
you thought you lost when the years went by
comes back to you with the dust laden ring
her finger still unwarm on this rainy evening.

As the rain pours in the streetlight's glow
you regret if only you hadn't let her go
wish her to come back by a magic happening
redraft torn pages on this rainy evening.

Your side of the window can't rub off the cold
of the void in you left for her face never old
you madly ask could give anything to find
if on this rainy evening you come once in her mind.

Flow enough tears
but all these years
I burn them in fire.

Still a drop or two
past fire come through
finding earth's need too dire.

The golden potato beamed at him in the sun
When he had almost stopped his quest for this one
The others in the pile smeared his hand with red earth
But it as if for his eyes lay hidden apart.

Make me your choice do pick me
Lift me from this dump set me free
I deserve no mash no steaming boil
No cut into pieces to be fried in oil.

Get me quick for I come from a land
Where soil grows rich in golden sand
They have a song for each seed sown
That when they sing all grief is outgrown.

And the harvest when they’re spread in the sun
All hands embrace all hearts welcome
In each sapling that sprouts from the soil
Is seen the miracle of god’s earthly toil.

He picked the precious up from the red dirt
Needing it dearly for his backyard desert
Where he would have it on this summer sown
Till the rain shoots it up all grief is outgrown.

Whatever you thought
of the modern art
you never said
you were impassive

your eyes or features
betraying nothing
you studied the art work
in your usual calmness

no ****** expression
no raised eyebrows
no tut-tutting
even the dead sheep

in the glass case
didn't put you off
or raise
emotive response

you eyed everything
walking slow
holding the programme
bought at the door

looking at each
as you went by
after a while
we moved along

to the small café
in the gallery
and had drinks
and sandwiches

and you talked
in your soft
open manner
not of art

or what we'd seen
but of work
and what you did
and unfolded things

like a magician
without revealing
secrets of it all
then we moved on

and you
were silent again
into the other rooms
of modern art

the Picassos
and Mondrians
and others
you taking photo shots

with your mobile phone
eyeing all the art
showing no emotion
no tilt of head

or wide-eyed
revelation
of surprise
just your own way

of appreciation son
your own
gentle way
of moving between

what is good or great
or seemingly crap
with the calmness
of a swan

through water
your depth
drinking it all in
with no pretence

or show
just that inner knowing
what you liked
and didn't

I am glad
you came with me
that day
the Tate Modern

wouldn't have been
the same somehow
your silence
your calm taking in

of art
your secret
appreciation
made it all

worth while
some way
but now
your untimely death

my son
makes it seem all
the more worth while
that day

that art
the shared time together
but I'd give
any Mondrian

or Picasso art away
just to be with you again
if only
for one more day.

Ole would have loved
New York
he often said
he’d like to go

before untimely death
intervened
and stopped the show
I can see him now

treading at his own
casual pace
walking the sidewalks
taking in the streets

block by block
glancing down alleys
seeking out
the dives or clubs

hearing the music
in the smoky air
visiting a bar or two
having a beer

or Jameson whiskey
sitting on a bar stool
alone in his quiet manner
dressed in his black

overcoat
dark glasses
and black hat
(even in summer

he felt the cold)
maybe then
he was getting old
not saying

as was per norm
what troubled him
no one telling him
what to do

I can see him
go in the stores
and walk
in his usual

laid back tread
taking in a show
on Broadway
and being in spirit

not flesh and blood
getting in to see
for free
and that

would have brought on
his Mutley chuckle
that infamous Ole grin
or smile

but I guess
he may not
have gone alone
but have gone

with some other
in their ghostly shade
a Hendrix
or Jim Morrison

walking side by side
and I wish
it could have been me
there by his side

drinking in
his gentle quietness
and deep breath
if he hadn’t had

that sudden
out of the blue
untimely
29 year old death.