He spoke of the stream that flowed uphill
In a grotto, long forgot,
Then said the stream would be flowing still,
And I could believe, or not.
I thought he was strange, with a twisted mind
For the concept was insane,
He said that he came from another time
In a land of eternal rain.
I’d met him at Janet’s party where
He drifted from room to room,
Where everyone else was hearty but
He gave off an air of gloom.
I noticed one of his eyes was blue
The other was green, I’d say,
Whenever he stared they both were red
And his face became slate grey.
I’ll never know why he spoke to me
I hadn’t met him before,
He had this prominent artery
That ran the length of his jaw,
His voice was flat and unmusical
Though it said the strangest things,
The bones of knuckles were beautiful
He said, when covered in rings.
I followed him to the verandah where
I found him gazing at stars,
He said they seemed to be back to front
I said, ‘Well at least, they’re ours.’
‘The grass I knew was a deeper blue,’
He said, ‘and the sky was green,’
I said, ‘You must be from out of town,
We would think that was obscene.’
He said ‘You’re not very friendly,’ when
I thought we were doing fine,
He asked me to show him the number six
But I showed him the number nine.
The bus would take him to Goblin Dell
By the longest way around,
I said to myself, it’s just as well
He’ll end in the Lost and Found.
I still regret that I didn’t go
To the grotto, long forgot,
He said he was willing to take me there
Whether I would, or not,
I’d like to have seen the fabled stream
That he said had flowed uphill,
And where it led to the source of dream
Where the rain is raining still.
David Lewis Paget
