NOTHING TO SEE

Nothing to see.  Perhaps its not what you are looking for, and reading between the lines suggests nothing sinister here.  Mother said.  “Take the broom handle, prop open the eyelids, and wake up son.  Time to start your day.  Put some clothes on, and change your under-ware, but take a shower first.”  That’s how you talk to boys, and starting at an early age, is good.  Slow to see what you are talking about, composition is for English school, and the truth is he grows on you.  Dirty on the outside, nice when you least expect it. 

 

 

Talking about the undiscovered me, and it has been a long journey to an early morning shower and smelling nice when around people.  Hard work made me like this.  Up early.  Get to the job site.  And then, too tired at the end of the day, and if you ask him he would say, “Mother had so many children, she got their names mixed up when telling stories of their youth.”

 

Charm and Character.  Not easy to frame in a picture and hang in the hall.  But won’t suggest there is nothing to see, when looking at my track record.  Circuitous at best, he invites you to the round table of sacred nights and a glass of wine or ale.  Be careful. 

 

The morning after can be revealing and it all depends how much you remember at the bar, how disappointing it is, when he’s gone and you read the note left on the table.  “ Stone Drum has a calling.  Stonehaven, Scotland.  Come find me if you dare.”

 

Nothing to see.  Not much there.  I am not really saying that.  Depends on what you desire.  Landscape promise is more compelling than chasing a boy across the seven seas, or even across the Atlantic.  But it happens.  Eating and drinking and he is available.  That’s how it got started.  The rest was a yearning for travel and lust.  At the time, it was beautiful. 

 

What I saw in my mind, and the projection of us walking the highlands hand in hand, and me, a little slowed down by carrying his baby.  Truth is we never got that far.  Prevailing westerly winds blew us off course, and is true I was comfortable at the Holiday Inn, but without him.  Stone Drum and Stone-haven.  We don’t talk about it very much, when Christmas comes around and he appears magically.  High Ground Approach. 

No death stares.  Nothing to see.  No pictures from the past.  Was in my youth and yes he put notions in my head.  Rocked my cradle so to speak, but barely could afford the ticket to Scotland.  Lands End and so did my man-dreams with him.  Invisible permutations of good times and a good man, blown off course near Stonehaven.

 

Blamed in on the weather and facing east staring into the night, as sand became tears in my eyes.  Disappearing Act.  Round Table Night.  Dark Ale.  Flickering light and no pictures.  Nothing to see, but felt it at heart level.  Gone but not forgotten.  Like a museum piece I yearn to visit, Stone Drum is a favorite. 

 

Even now.  Even in bad weather.  Coming Home.  Older now and understand.  At the time he was all I could see.  Close my eyes and he was there.  Still is.  Frozen in time.    Oh so lovely.  Those days of youth.  Being in Love.  Near a Scottish Castle.  Nothing to see, but a lot to cherish and remember.  Yes, indeed.