A Memory of Magpies

I took a long walk on the old coast road,

And I heard the calling of my local ghosts.

Well, sometimes I feel I'm more haunted than most,

But who would I hear were they gone?

And some passerby those hedgerows intoned,

A snatch of a sonnet recited by rote.

I feel we forget that those old hedges home,

The birds our poems recall.

And I feel I've been searching all of my life,

For some resting state that's my peace of mind.

I know I forget sometimes to be kind,

That much I'm sure's understood.

Now, affairs of the heart are virtue and vice,

The fetching of peace from out clouded skies.

I'll never forget those November nights,

Though I bitterly wish I could.

So, what became of the jungle of wire and steel?

What became of Calais and a migrant's tale?

I feel we forget what it's too hard to feel,

Yes, I feel that we're all moving on.

So, fill up your glasses with whiskey or beer,

And whatever the cost, I'll pay.

We live and forget, and what's forgotten now, dear,

Is only the dark in the dawn.