
Darkest before dawn
Coldest as the sun rises
Signs of the New Day
copyright Francis Barker 2020

copyright Francis Barker 2020

It was really happening here
back in the sixties,
before it all turned sour
and the seventies made cynics of us all.
Back then you couldn’t move;
gangs on scooters and motor bikes,
the Mods and the Rockers,
had set the scene before us.
Then Year One came along, or so we thought;
the Summer of Love opened our eyes,
blew our minds, until we realised
that we too had been wrong.
It’s kind of quiet now,
the sea has reclaimed the place for itself,
like it always will,
as we shuffle off one by one
to some other place
beyond that wide horizon
copyright Francis Barker 2020

I’m sorry for my impatience,
for forgetting what is important.
The simple things
of being and sharing together.
A drink, a nice meal
and a smile across the table,
waking up and saying goodnight
and all the rest in between.
I am grateful for the day,
the little things making
the world of me and you
go round
copyright Francis Barker 2020

Someone once said prayers for your soul,
memories still fresh with loss.
They even built a monument,
with likenesses to make them recall and think.
Then time and event began to smooth over
the prickly edges of their pain,
and soon they too were gone,
the prayers being said no more,
save as thoughts in agnostic minds
as to the nature of faith
copyright Francis Barker 2020