Hunkered down here

Hunkered down here

Over coffee

And a blueberry muffin

I can tell you

Nothing matters

More than love,

Peace,

A good scotch,

Oh yes, and good company.

Good company and

The memory of it.

Was it ever really as sweet

As its recollection?

I told my mother

I was going to London

To see a concert

At the Albert Hall

Packed a kitbag, took my leave

Never to return.

Gave up free board and lodging,

Other than a few bob

From a meagre wage packet,

For a room with no electricity,

A bathroom

Not fit to sit in,

And a single-bar fire

In a communal hall.

Turned on its back

It cooked a pan of beans

Boiled water,

And toasted bread

Liberated from the back of a bakery.

A casual Bohemian

An accidental vagrant.

Under an army greatcoat

From World War two.

Warm as toast

In the summer

Cold as Gdansk

In winter

But the vibe was good.

We played blues

Made good music

Stole a few lines

From the old guys

Who could always give me a reality check

Wrote a few new things

Progressed.

Swapped stories with the birds

Made a new friend

Out of an old crow

Learned a few truths

About myself

And realised what it took

To have integrity

In a vacuum shorn of morality.

What a thrill

To get old,

It wasn’t guaranteed,

Too many got wasted.

Too much love was lost

Too many memories

Vying for attention

To find wisdom,

I never found it.

What about you?