Moving Scenes

MOVING SCENES

Taxi waiting outside down the path from my door

As I give myself the thirty-year farewell tour

Through rooms and spaces

Where I ran my first races

Family’s destination of '82

Family book was only open a page or two

Before the world I knew

Where the family tree grew

Going from low to high,

To speak, learn and try

Crawling on all fours, years or more

All the trips and falls

Among these four walls

We stamp our identity

In this western corner of  our city modernity

Redefined as the time goes by

Monday to Friday, go to school, work hard

Try not to be too naughty

Revise on Sunday to the Top 40

And then some

Capital hits of the 90s Jensen

Who’s the Kid? Not him, looking it back on it now,

Upstairs looking tidy- yes or maybe no,

This house audience to an era of radio

Then it was analogue, now it’s digital

Faster, yes, but have we really made more sense of it all?

We put hopes and fears

Even a son or a daughter,

Adding whole life stories to these bricks and mortar,

Now everyone telling how they’re so very sure

That it’s very hard to close that kind of door

Memories come as close as they can get to purity,

It’s not the material but the visual security,

Over nearly 3 decades, so now one less key on my chain,

Time to find a new umbrella to keep out the rain,

But let the sun shine bright, now the future gleams,

Taxi’s pulling away , pulling down

The curtain on these moving scenes.

© BlancVerse 2011