BEADS ON STRINGS

a thought about you-

triggered, by the sight and sound and smell

of something else-

brings it all back.

the old brick bridge,

hunch-backed

over the still canal-

reflects on those reflections gone

dark inside me deep-

which spoke prophetic phrases

that echoed on its ceiling

and fused within my own

bead on this simple string of time.

i felt i knew

each sentence in your senses,

and loves rhythms, rapid and relaxed-

made its own ripples, constant then but absent now,

with sanguine words,

and sagacious phrases

vibrating in the chords of air, like music moulding time.

Copyright Strider Marcus Jones. 2009. INSIDE OUT