The Young That Grew Old

Dropping crumbs on dusty balconies

Licking empty ice-cream bowls clean

Decadent post-retirement age

Preaches determined delusionists

To dance

Feeding dreams with dishwater

Untying laces, breaking watch straps

Gravelling through grimy mornings

Living sodden after sunset stories

And sleep

Once pebbles fell and did not break

Promises were made and fulfilled

Love’s dreamy nights ended on its knees

Names were engraved on stones and rings

The young grew old and lived the same dream

Of sighs that once were wishes

That children shut their eyes and blew

That fluttered into darkness

Trodden underfoot 

By the young that grew old

Dig now under piles and piles of regret

And miles of sand and sawdust

And through the bone dry surface

Grow leaves of untrodden faith yet

Gleam emerald-like in the gloom

Until plucked again

Maybe, maybe we’ll grow glass cases some day.