Pages – Sunday November 10th 1996

Pages

heather creeps into my toes
my joints move like slow motion
nobody understands the isolation
and how it grows
with thoughtful memories
that slave us to a past
we often still live
heathers grows and grows
on and on it always goes
life is like a book
it can all be read at once
each page turned and turned
by some god like finger
but some things are heard learnt
and sometimes you may find a chapter
and choose to linger
my body subcomes to isolation
life life on the moors
my mind is poetic justice
and a place of doors
pages like parchment
and stained with ink
that acts like a guide
to the way we think



There are more poems at
https://theboybehindtheglasses.com/



James Garratt – Sunday 10th November 1996