Lines To My Young Self Returning
Look what the wind blew in from the moor,
the sea drove to the shore,
see who it is who stands at the door.
The one expected but not the same returning.
Face shows what grows with life’s learning.
Far enough away now,
old enough to welcome my young self home.
Let us share this mug of tea.
Here is where it led, the path you took to roam.
What winter made hard spring will melt.
Tell me of your feelings felt.
Let me intrude.
What thoughts came to you in solitude?
But I know, don’t I?
No one ever asked
of the ways you took beneath the sky.
As for me, as you see,
I have not changed much.
Still read, write, love the same songs.
Out there, in the wild, my spirit belongs.
Truth I still try to touch.
I have the advantage, for I know you,
but you look a little baffled by me,
like an owl by a thunder struck tree.
Yes, this is what you became,
what you grew into.
Always the one made of too much vapour
to be certain on what I knew.
I am glad you came, paid a visit.
A meeting so sudden, vivid, intense
cannot be held to last.
Let you go then, a shadow figure
drawn back into the glass,
a face in a mist reclaimed by my past.
Glad you came.
After all, we share the same life, the same name.