before
 the shore
    the wind was howling
like a dog 
    a virulent fog spilling forth
in orange swirls of day glo
sixties flash forwards
    bemused and too cold
for being this old (!)
  no patches on these worn out jeans
it's a cut off day
    with tennis shoes
       falling apart
at the seams
    what's for lunch?
  

garrison
walls
 are crumbling
    next to your tea cup
still the tv works and
   the smoke goes up

but I'm as beautiful as a morning in your eyes