How could you know as you took up your pen to write
Labouring with this self-imposed creative chore
The tired-eyed words would reach their target so right
Winging straight to the desk of a lady dark no more.
So I sit here and smile at your anxiety
Urging your yawning muse to add her mellow touch
To words for someone who was so nothingy
To you. But you to me are nonesuch.
Before you were, I was in Chorlton town
Learning of Muddy Waters at Richard’s side
Discovering the clear delights of Newky Brown
And later weeping wildly on Marion the night John died.
The things we all shared a long long year ago
Fulfilled in you as you carve your creative furrow.
10 October 2014
This was written to thank Lowell Belfield for fulfilling his pledge to write a sonnet to me as thanks for my help in funding a performance of his play Jestia and Raedon at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2014. See here. What he probably didn’t know when I signed up was that I’d known first his Dad, then his Mum, for a very long time!
Riverview Songs 