Cold Chicken Sandwiches

Walking along the cliffs it all came back.

On a blind afternoon

Old men’s thoughts crept in.

The past…always the past.


It was summer, warm winds, chilled wine, and cold chicken sandwiches.

I lay on my back slowly drifting, her hand caressing my neck.

She was talking about tomorrow (it was a time when tomorrows held promise).

 We’d made love in the sunshine, the sea way below us. So long ago…and yet.


These were the years of plenty.

Time stood still, we filled ourselves

with memories of love never lasting.

 Carelessly drifting from consequence to consequence.

 Playing the game.


Fifty years later

on that cliff top…

I can’t remember her name;

 just a face,

a smile… 



© mikeverdi 2020
critique and comments welcome.
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Many will identify well with this fine poem, Mike. The many love episodes, even single encounters of curious and lustful youth. They remain as nameless gravestones in the vast cemetery of youth’s romantic adventures and failures, at least physically, because the love experience, the positive outward expressions of mutual appreciation, doesn’t disappear, but, we would hope, remains within one’s character, as it strengthens both the ego and soul. I like the progression and descriptions of tender moments, the good intentions, the admittance of naivety, and the nostalgic emotional feel of it all. Funny how we can conjure up even the… Read more »


Love the frame and content of this Mike, fine writing that takes the reader to the scene. Best Keith


Ah, just have to add, (I’m sure you know) 1967 is the year of the iconic photo of the Beatles on Plymouth Hoe – I have the Chris Robinson print in a frame in the hall. x


Oh God, yes! Just love all the maritime history there and the present. Plymouth Uni is very appealing and it looks to have done a great deal of work to attract students. x


Hi Mike, I enjoyed this read and the ending especially. A very alluring title and my tummy really is rumbling now. It makes me picture Jennycliff. I’ve been in Plymouth a couple of times this year. My paternal gran was 95 this year and stays (again) at the Barbican near to where she was born. Kim x


Mike, I’ll do that when I’m next there. Would be a pleasure. x

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