Today I arrived on a train
Into rain. Once again.
Happy to greet
Mr Oaks on the street
Who taught me so badly
At college but gladly
My feet stop to whisper
A hi, and then smile
As a mile of old friends
And warm waving hands
Are here braving this rain.
I muse at theatre where
Plays I have staged, at
Reviews I have raged and
A few I have paged to my mum
and my dad “They weren’t so bad!”
A hundred mementos of kindness
and gladness, in bars and in clubs
And a few tales of badness.
Then arrive at my studio, cosy
and heated, a day spent in
fighting for good, not defeated.
The seagull is there on the sill
with a look, that can read me
its beady young eye like a book.
It says: Feed me.
Then into a world of virtual lands
Where the greetings are equally
warm, shaking virtual hands.
A tiredness creeps yet the energy
rises, as poets and writers pen
gorgeous suprises and never
do rest.. A hundred warm faces, from
faraway places to soothe all
away a day of exhaustion and
gloom and plain gray.
Yet lurking in here, are the souls
who are victims of virtual anger
and displacing curses who
fashion cruel verses to make me
appear as a soul who is darker than coal.
With a blood metaphor on fake
hands do they smear just to liven
the drama that’s never sincere.
And the seagull is flying and
daring the storm, and she calls
to her watcher, and sends him
a warm wish to never forget
that the walk from the train, was a
step of real love that never can
drain what the demon creators
will do in their blindness,
“remember” the gull, says,
“you fed me with kindness.”