Good Old Friends

[poliphilo]

A poem about the Alice books- but not, sadly, a new one....

                                   GOOD OLD FRIENDS

 

                                    I want to stop them sliding off

                                    Down the misty stream. The barge is full

                                    Of good old friends in dialogue

                                    With one another (but not with me)

                                    About an England that went to ruin

                                    Eighty, a hundred years ago.

                                    My notional boathook catches air.

                                    Their chatter fades. I am left with Alice,

                                    Still, amazingly, one of us,

                                    Who sits with me on the landing stage,

                                    Wiggling toes in the dark cold stream,

                                    And talks to me of her dream rushes.