The Magic Box

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