Then

by Bernie McCann

With only the promise now of transformation
and the city street from his window
full of the constant magic of distraction

Old grey man rises to climb the stairs
past the old clock facing pages strewn across a table
stopped long ago

The pen set aside the ink dried
and curled yellow the pages
soak in the sun

How poverty became endowed
with such dusty, forgotten charm
is still clearly a memory

Perhaps it was their routine
they danced in the living room
unaware of the sameness, the smallness
of their surroundings

So clear to him at other times
her smile everything then
her voice
lighting all the rooms

11-Feb-2007

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