The clock ticks ....
        A lost bluebottle flits aimlessly through this dusty room.
                   We sit alone here, together, me and my thoughts.
        Images of times and places past
        Play a phantasmagoria of people and their pontification.
        Carefree, I wander around the rooms of my mind,
        From the now to distant memories of
        Beaches, birthdays, homes, holidays.
        The flotsam and jetsam of an eventful life
        Throw themselves up, to sink slowly away,
        Back to the oblivion of the dusty vaults which are seldom visited now.
        My mind knows no movement, but my spirit is in motion,
        Free of anguish, now I too flit between the nectarine memories.

        Alone today, just me and past moments.
        Alone in the tick-tock world
          Of the here and now.
 

        Philip Ralph Johnston
        (c) February 1991