‘Half-truths’ . . . Pen & Wash – WHB : 2017
Half-truths abound in memory
Reflections from my maculate mind
Those part-remembered escapades
Seem partly sighted, partly blind.
Did I when young once ever dare
When roaming in the hills
Explore that damp disused mine shaft
And risk entombment for the thrills?
Was it alone that I did climb
That thrusting rock, that mighty drop,
Without a thought for life and limb
To view the valley from the top?
And when we found that dark Blue Lake
Did I join others for a swim,
Or did I watch whilst others dived,
Afraid to join them? Memory’s dim.
That time, when rambling, I explored
Deep into that hillside cave.
Was I alone and did I dare,
How was it I could be so brave?
And did I once, my memory fades,
Spend a night upon Cass Rock
Light a fire, sleep on the stone,
Or was that all just poppycock?
My youthful escapades were many,
Risky games and daring pranks.
I’ve boasted that I once was brave,
Ever the one for breaking ranks.
I’ve told myself so many times
How bold I was, adventurous child.
And yet I know, if truth be told,
I always was but meek and mild.
Ahh.., Roland, your bright memories are true and shiny and should remain so. they are part of what made you who you are. I have many such seemingly mad memories myself and smile and treasure them.
Love your poem.
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I’m extremely grateful for your warm response, Miriam.