The Long walk

The Long Walk


I was walking along a long road in a 1950ish industrial
landscape, high walls and closed down factories; dark
brown, and no green weeds in pavement cracks.

Down at the docks all ships had left, cranes stood in
silence each one ensconced in the terrifying loneliness
of the soulless that knows of no existence.

I found the office I was looking for, needed someone to
stamp a document, it was empty I waited till light faded
from pictures of stern faced men on photos on walls.

This place had no real sunshine, a haze hung over here
making summers a pale affair, only in August did sun
penetrate drowning shadows in a white unpleasant light.

Outside, in the street going south, there were many me,
young ones, middle aged and some were even older than
I, which I thought was a good sign and secretly smiled.

For a moment I felt nostalgic wanted to look back, but
desisted we had, all of us, agreed that we must walk on
never look back as the past holds a fatal attraction.

Sooner or later the road must end and open up to a vista
of olive and almond trees, lemon coloured straw, faraway
blue mountains and pastel painted summers.