Embossed

Thinking about photographs

You were in fashion
after the bike crash
It’s funny what death does,
you always worried
what people thought,
desperate to be accepted deeper
by friends with no depth.

When I’m home
I walk the fields,
follow the brook up to
the railway bridge
drop through the hedge
into the graveyard.

It doesn’t seem right
to drive through the main gate,
I would feel old.

Your picture is always a smile
embedded in resin,
fresh faced, shoulder length hair
leather jacket, all the trade marks
to help you fit in, find a slot.
part of our lot I guess.

Any way it’s been nice
being 17 again
no matter how brief the moment.
You still get a mention
when the old bikers
meet for a beer.

Maybe I’ll see you next year.

© savvi 2020
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critique and comments welcome.
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Sweetwater

As an old biker myself I loved this, fortunately we didn’t lose any of our friends this way, but sadly too many do. Beautifully written, it’s going into favs. Sue.

TheRecluse

The poignant feeling mellowed by time comes over well in this sad annual visit to pay respects, Keith. Lost some friends of friends in those old biking days too regularly storming the old Saltbox café at Biggin Hill, Kent, though never close enough to require a regular pilgrimage. Like the smooth flow of the anecdotal style, and good to see you subbing again.
Trevor

Nemo

Very effective writing, Keith. I admire.the structure, the way it builds up to a poignant ending. Good.to see your poems again.
Gerald.

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