The Aftermath

The Aftermath

Did you ever say

as you lay on soft white linen
in a shaded room,
the sunlight glittering behind ill-fitting curtains,
sensing the gentleness of warm breath on your shoulder,
the scented rhythm of afterwards,
the softness of someone's skin -

Did you ever say

as you reached the final summit,
breathing in the sharp, thin air,
ice cold, flushed
with the warm blood of success -

Did you ever say:

It was all worthwhile, for this!

And did you ever think of the quiet afternoons
filled only with old albums
the worthless litter of public smiles,
the water that long since ran between your fingers
and the long, long, downhill road,
the ebbing, emptying years,
living in the aftermath?


published in Weyfarers 92