Ode to Ale

 Here   again   in   the   village   inn,    my   hands   cupped   around   a   glass.   

A  place  by  the  fire,  peace  and  quite  I  require,  but  I  know  it  will  not  long  last.

And  I'd  rather  be  here  with  you  than  out  there  in  a  world  that  is  new,

As  my  strength  seeps  away  there's  nothing  to  say,  but  I'd  rather  be  here  with  you.

When  life  stops  giving,  and  starts  to  take,  and  memories  fade  and  hands  do  shake.

Alone  in  thoughts  shadow  ghosts  appear  and  remind  me  of  places  and  old  friends  so  

dear,   and  I'm  pleased  once  again  for  our  English  beer.

Now!..  isn't  she  loverly  the  'Barmaid'?  With  her  dark  brown  smouldering  eyes,

And  the  curl  her  lip  when  she  looks   my  way  that  look  of  gentle  surprise.

As  the  door  of  the  inn  swings  open  smoke  bellows  into  the  bar,

Woodsmoke from  the  fire  were  I'm  sitting  tastes  like  a  stale  cigar.

The  lads  tumble  in,  all  in  good  cheer  for  lager   and   porter  and  good  English  beer.

With   a  homerkin  of  black  stuff  problems   are  solved, 

The conjecture of Riemann Hypothesis;......so I'm told.

I  sit   in  my  corner,  I  don't  get  involved......  I'd  rather  be  here  with  you. 

Tick Tock

 Time runs away from me I never do catch up,   Eric said; God made time, there's plenty of the stuff, It runs through my fingers and there's plenty in my past,  and now it never lingers the future coming fast.

In 1947 time was all ahead of me, it passed slow on summer days when life was still care-free, there was time to waste and time to kill, time for everything, now I see it running out all against my will.

I thought time was on my side but that was not the case, I hear the sound of the march of time and wear it on my face, and feel the time within my bones and see times shadows cast, there's little in my future now and life's just flying past.

Time is precious when you're old and slow in childhood, time is long for those who grieve and swift when times are good, time will tell me when to leave, I'd stop it if I could,  traces of lost lives remain my own misunderstood.