The magic box
I will put in the box
hot solstice night, full moon, fête de la musique
swifts wheeling and squealing
Woznica’s dancing in the street
2016, all of us hoping, surely, surely we’d remain
I will put in the box
Alan in his DJ raising his baton and his eye-brows
Ros with accordion, Moulin Rouge
the blessed cool of the church
our voices echoing
So many summer garden gatherings
Eileen’s pavlova, salads, tarts
sunsets over châteaux
Is that Penny on the phone?
Hugo and Alan, the American Songbook
tears and laughter
Art and pottery, exhibitions, poetry and plays
Cheryl behind a curtain helpless - as Clive and I got lost
or ditto Jo and Alan, improving on our scripts
the too-much drunken audience hysterical at le Stop
living the dream in the sun and the south.
I will put in my box a memory of lockdown
how we helped each other through
the Friday quizzes, friends in London, Canada
Leo’s Aussie authors, quite unknown
and always Andy, reluctant, dragged in by his wife
I will put in the box the annual excitement
trip to the Costa for sun and sea, sangria
Marek diving to search for a ring
the warmth of the water, the tapas in Calau
the Japanese meal and the tab our new friends paid!
My box has the scent of a parasol pine
It’s decorated with Zinnias and purple sprouting, gifted by Mike
inset with the silver songs of several shades of grey
for it is carved of love and friendships
true friends who care and call when things go wrong
found here in Léran and beyond
a miracle of magic in our triple-locked carte vitale rose-golden years.
19th August 2024, Hounoux
