When we were last here many decades since,
We were unbroken glass, chipped but clear,
As we walk I’m looking for clues, some hints
To our boyhood spent in this city here.
And it slowly returns, history revealed,
A carved Victorian building, your voice and its tone,
Hidden memories that callouses concealed,
As we talk of the time we’ve lived in between.
Occasionally I look round with a trawling gaze,
Refocus on time past and present now,
This art gallery café is in many ways
A link to us then. I find you somehow;
Both boys are gone, all innocence must pass,
Broken, remade, a window of stained glass.