Eleven thousand
three hundred
sixty one miles away
in a place I’ve never been,
you are thinking
of all the places
you have never been
or haven’t been,
some for seasons,
some for years.
A Paris pomegranate sunrise
from the Pont des Arts,
bright colours shimmying
at the pulse of romance.
The blood cell rush of Shibuya,
Tokyo at night among
a river of strange symbols,
blinking TV screens.
Prague dredged in frost,
feet-chatter on cobbles
past the Jan Hus memorial
under a cool periwinkle sky.
Glossy tulips in Bilbao,
metallic curves,
trill of syllables
by the teal Nervión.
I think of you, far away,
same planet, different spot,
the future washing towards us
full of scrambled images
and white noise,
a trickle of hope at your toes,
through my screen.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
Eleven thousand
three hundred
sixty one miles away
in a place I’ve never been,
you are thinking
of all the places
you have never been
or haven’t been,
some for seasons,
some for years.
A Paris pomegranate sunrise
from the Pont des Arts,
bright colours shimmying
at the pulse of romance.
The blood cell rush of Shibuya,
Tokyo at night among
a river of strange symbols,
blinking TV screens.
Prague dredged in frost,
feet-chatter on cobbles
past the Jan Hus memorial
under a cool periwinkle sky.
Glossy tulips in Bilbao,
metallic curves,
trill of syllables
by the teal Nervión.
I think of you, far away,
same planet, different spot,
the future washing towards us
full of scrambled images
and white noise,
a trickle of hope at your toes,
through my screen.
Written: December 2016.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time, inspired partially by an image a friend of mine took whilst at Sunkist Bay in Auckland, New Zealand. All feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found in my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.
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