Beyond The Foyer

Now my schooldays
were newly faded memories
and work saw me dark morning walk
to a factory full of fumes,
Saturdays became
my only hunting opportunity.

Dressed in my fashion
of those sixties days,
I marched the isles
of the Woolworth store,
chatting up the girls
at every counter, even
‘the one’on the knitting pattern till,
who would become tonight’s date;
hoping she would not ruffle
my very latest hair.

Then, in the back seats
of flea pits, we petted.
Dangerous in the pitch black.
Afraid of torches
that flashed like voyeurs.
We moaned to the Pathe News
and only watched the film
when our lips were too numbed
from lashing tongues and teeth.

I recall all this today as I watch
films alone, in new century cinemas.

I can not reach to plant a kiss,
for you are no longer here.
Our life together
has gone with the wind
our pride and passion
petered to a final stop.
You now rest in different rows...

your ticket torn in half.

by Ian Bowen

Comments (3)

truly its just awesome..
..the sensed absence Beautiful poem! Sylva
Someone's real life in this on-rolling world. Authentic, three dimensional, convincingly detailed - a little bit of all of us in this. Loved 'but that part will come later'. Earlier than you'd expect though! This is great. I can see why she's such an influence on PH writers.