Blood and snow

Blood and snow

Those early days were the best
            when we first travelled together
and you brought blueberries
            or cherries to snack on the train

I remember how your eyes lit up
            when I asked you that question
in the Southwark Tavern and how
            unconsciously you licked your lips

I remember the night we spent
            in Bruton and all the love we made
all the fun             Snow on the platform
            where we waited for the return train

the boys throwing aimless snowballs
            across the tracks and the young sailor
telling us of his life at sea 
            and the radiance of your smile

John Lyons

Remembering Bruton

Remembering Bruton

As the train left London
            snow began to fall
and we wondered whether
            it would accumulate
but it did and by the time
            we reached Bruton
it lay thickly on the ground
            and we shivered
as we stepped out into the air
            and everywhere whiter
than the sheep
            on the hillside

And that night a whole lamb
            roasted on an open fire
and there was music
            and we danced
and there were fireworks
            and so many people
and so much love
            in your eyes

John Lyons

In Bruton at fifty

detail 5

Detail 5, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

In Bruton at fifty

We are what the sea has made
           into and out of it—
and starflakes falling
           on a Saturday night
along with long threads
           of fine frozen fire
and a kiss and a cuddle
           to our heart’s desire

and age seems so trivial
           fifty years on
with all that’s gone well
           with whatever’s gone wrong
fifty years and a day
           and a day
who would have thought
           it would work out that way

on Lusty Hill
           where the dovecote stands
and love so disruptive
           to all of our plans
here where the river
           runs down to the sea
what is and what was
           and what’s bound to be

John Lyons