THE MEMORY PEARLS

The necklace breaks.
The pearls scatter
and, somehow, it is not enough
for her to know that,
though lost for a while,
they are still nearby

She wants them all back,
the moments and memories,
and those who made them.
She wants them all back,
secured together and shining,
before her dazzled eyes




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THE PLEASURE OF SMALL THINGS

The older I get the more I realise that it's the small things in life that make me happy.

You can rely on the small things. They carry with them their own humility. They do not seek to wreak seismic changes in your life, like a love affair, or a new career. They warm the heart and don't out stay their welcome.

I go to a local coffee shop most mornings after my stint as a school escort is over and relax over a cappuccino and the daily paper.

Every now and then a mother and her daughter, who is probably about two, come in. The child is as fair as the mother is dark but they both exude a quiet grace. They seem to come from another, gentler age.


They usually sit in a table at the window next to mine. I turn around to wave and, because she knows me now, the little girl waves back at me with the tiny, still forming hands that will one day stroke a child's cheek or hold a lover's hand.

Then they look out through the window at the passing world and something catches the child's eye and her mother leans in to explain another little part of the world's mystery.

It's usually then that it happens. I have this overwhelming need for time to stand still. I am grateful to be distracted from the horrors in the "Daily News" and want this reminder, that life was once as simple and innocent for all of us as it is for Amy now, to last for as long as possible.

Once we all gazed out through the window at the world, dazzled by it, but held securely in loving arms and totally unaware of our mother's fears for us once we passed beyond the glass ourselves.

I say a brief, silent prayer that all will be well for this mother and daughter when that moment comes. Then I place the moment in that crowded, untidy cupboard of beautiful moments that we all carry around with us and lastly I do it the courtesy of letting it pass in peace!

SPARROW

Do not pity this "Little Emperor",
for you do not know
the wonders once encompassed
by that dead eye.
Once, the whole world
was contained by the span of his wings
and, even in death,
he is not shackled.
See how that eye
is still fixed upon
the endless vaults of heaven.

A VOICE SINGING IN ANOTHER ROOM

A voice singing in another room,
a gentle haunting that, nevertheless,
can stab at the heart
in the quiet moment.

The voice is sweetly insistent,
a slender, unbreakable thread
leading you haltingly
back to the past.

But you would not silence it,
would you?
You would not be the one
to murder memory?

For each well remembered
moment of tenderness
helps build a raft
for the endless sea.

It's not the "ghost" that troubles,
only the fact that
it might be the first
to quit the haunting


John R. Nicoll (for A).

SPRING

For me, Spring is the most poignant season. Some might argue that Autumn should hold that title, what with the last of the leaves and the onset of the "dead season", but, no, for me, it's Spring.

There is something about the idea of rebirth that always brings a lump to my throat and, with every passing year, it seems to get more pronounced.

We find ourselves, once more, marvelling at the first signs of new life. We didn't think that winter would ever end, particularly this year, but it has and so we watch eagerly for the first flowers to poke their head above ground and it always seems to symbolise hope. And hope IS poignant, isn't it?

Hope tells you that even the things that you thought had died within you can be re animated - even hope itself!

The other day I saw a line of still bare trees outlined against the blue sky and scudding Spring clouds, their branches waving in the breeze as if beckoning to the leaves that will come to them shortly. Hope joined with faith, then!

So this is probably as good a time as any to start this new blog. I've recently had a disappointment in the romance stakes and, like a lot of people who are not exactly in the first flush of youth, I find it hard to meet ladies and so, to console myself, at least for a while, I will treat this humble effort as a place to "meet" ladies of quality like yourselves and hopefully entertain you writing on subjects which will, hopefully,be of interest to you.

All constructive comments are welcome, particularly if they are amusing.

If you want to write to me in detail, or if you have suggestions for an article or subject to be covered you can email me at johnnicollendeavour@yahoo.co.uk or, of course, you can leave a comment

John R. Nicoll.