Thoughts of Home While Abroad

The wine is good, the food is better

              We sit out in the Square

              Privileged and civilised

With more than we could dare

Have dreamed of fifty years ago

              When holidaying here

              We scratched together our small change

For sandwiches and beer.

So why, when everything we have

              Enables us to roam

              Do we sit here disconsolate

And want to be back home?

Brian Hick

©copyright 2021 S Hick

No matter how

Good the music

More than thirty

Minutes on this 

Pew and I lose

The will to live.

Brian Hick

Leaving Toulouse

And so we're sitting here for the last time.

Two years' ago we sat on this same seat;

You drew the fountain while I tried to meet

Your skill and deftness in my bumbling rhyme.

If we were to die as we fly home

Then everything today would be a 'last'

And while I warm to melancholic thoughts

 Approaching death is more than just a vast

plunge into the void, for I must face

The hourly thought that time is running out

And actions planned are probable no more

With mind grown feebler and the bodies rout.

Goudouli ponders, but pigeons do not care;

They drink, fly off and melt into the air.

Brian Hick 2009

©copyright 2021 S Hick