When I was a small boy
at the zoo
This world seemed
fresh.
And yet
If someone told me
then
how lonely
life would grow.
What could I have done
(or changed)
to stop that fate?
(Hence
not finish up
as melancholic.
Black-clad
faded soul.
Like a goth in spirit.
Minus
style.)
Perhaps long illness shows us
who our true friends are?
With mine revealing
I had none.
Except
a loving uncle.
Close
until the end.
His photographs were left for me.
Preserving childhood days.
Those early sunlit trips
escaped oblivion
again.
To my surprise
he claimed I’d been
a source of fun and joy.
(Depression
arrived later.
Once art waned
I lost my way.)
His favourite picture
caught me unaware
a swan approached
behind.
Recently
I found an unseen image
of what happened next.
He’d made it known
the bird drew near.
So I turned back
delightedly.
Thus
these few shots
which now
survive
though blurred
or aged
might still display
their faint remains
of such
(forgotten)
happiness.
(This is my third
Birthday blog post.
🎂
After 30 years of spending them alone (and ill)
I often feel sadness, on the day.
It tends to emphasise continued isolation.
My uncle used to ring me.
But, since his death, the phone stays, mostly, silent.)
Hope everybody is well?
Do you like any of the photos?
Comments are always VERY welcome!
Thank you
for reading.
( art / blog / blogging / depression / goth / life / mental health / photography / poem / poems / poetry / reading / thoughts / writing )
