'A man young & old', said Yeats.
He could have been talking about you.
Your soul floats between warm nights in;
Port in hand, fire ablaze, paper and pen poised,
As concerto and sonata dance and swirl around the room;
And cold nights out between bars and clubs;
Buckfast in hand, fire ablaze in every girl's eye,
iPhone telephone book poised to receive;
This time it's you who's dancing, arms and legs in every shape.
At 21, they say you get the key to the house;
To come and go as you like, but you always did,
And got lost in neighbours' gardens.
I'd say keep searching for that key, which will open your eyes;
To life and to love.
And though you come and go, as we all do,
Just remember…
That key.
