He was confused enough

He was confused enough

To get lost carrying the ash

Out to the bin

But nobody does that now.

His mind wanders

Always in a spin

Turning around again and again

Looking for a way out of its own predicament.

Winter played games

Just as the Daffodils were in full bloom

They were engulfed in snow

Shrivelled-up petals freeze dried

Crystalised

Resembling cake decorations

A cold wind snapping them off

Yellow heads

Bouncing over black ice

As hard as a cannonball

Tarmac with a metallic sheen

Sorried leaves crushed

Sifting as ash between bony

Brittle-skinned fingers.

He remembers having to brush

The step

Red hot cinders searing holes into the carpet

So many houses burning down.

The sky

Lit up like a blitz

Nobody should have to undergo such things.

The unseasonal chill

Eats into his bones

Even after coffee

Drunk without chicory

Which was a mandatory presence

In the larder

Next to the meat safe

Before they had a fridge.

He could walk into his freezer now

It is that big

But it is colder than it looks on the outside.

Chairs positioned to watch the box

Resemble the configuration

Around the old fireplace

With its Inglenook

So hot feet would cook

Faces would glow

Fairytales, dance in the flames.

Radiators

Rattle and hum

But their stories don’t hold the same magic

They always ring hollow.

So much hot air,

Even on a cold day.

If only he could remember

What brought him out into the street

With nothing on his feet

Everything would begin to make sense.