. Below is a poem I wrote when I was about twenty:
It’s curious to feel but true
That face I saw you smile last night
Is now a thousand miles away
Smiling at some other people’s faces I will never see.
The distance and the time I know
Will make us strangers you and I.
But somehow in the passing years,
with memories of those things we shared,
I embalm your fragile memory
It really is curious because since I wrote these lines, I never saw the girl again. She was Italian and moved back to her own country after a period of study in this country. I never “went out” with her in any sense of the word or even spoke her language, or she mine, but through shared walks and making her the odd cup of tea we established a kind of connection. We used to wave our arms around to communicate with each other and the memory amuses me.
I remember her name but know nothing else about her. I don’t hanker after her or dwell on her unduly, but the poem keeps a sense of her alive. This, apart from anything else, reminds how words can preserve a moment or a mood long after the events which shaped them have passed from your memory.
I don’t write poetry now but at that time it was a favoured pastime of mine and my closest friend. He still writes excellent poetry which can be found on a site called http:// poemsatlarge.blogspot.co.uk if you fancy a look. I hope you all enjoy your weekends. Mine will be spent contemplating a fresh approach to dieting spurred on by an unfortunate conversation with a mirror which jumped out in front of me while I was dressing this morning,