Fool To Cry

Fool To Cry

When we do reach back;

telling them the fairy stories of our lives,

 now looking so much older,

the weight of time slips from the shoulder.

We’ll skip over any committed crime

for I will bear yours, 

and you will wear mine;

forgiveness one effortless word:

given, received.

There, said it. 

That was simple.

Shake hands, grin, 

mouth easy platitude,

touch fingertips together 

in late evening gratitude.

Lies and blame are no longer said or heard.

Why? 

Well, the reasons have all fled.

Now seven oceans 

have flowed underneath,

we’ve forgotten even 

who cast that rainbow bridge,

or where it overlooked, or what it did –

if there really, forever, was a crock of gold.

So we’ll speak of compassion today instead.

Yet something troubling 

afflicts and reddens

our eyes, it stings, we blink

in salty waters we can never hide or deaden.

And, oh, their questions 

in innocence deep.

‘Grandad, 
why do you sit and sometimes weep?’

‘Grandma, 
where were those voices in your sleep?’

Perhaps a snatch of song we will remember,

fleeting bewitched glimpse or chance encounter,

wisp of dream 

we struggle hard to recall

of ancient giants, 

who once hoped so very small,

but plummet from beanstalks 

like rain washing, 

vain scrubbing at witches’ stain.

Those long years spent 
spinning gold into straw,

and deadlock bolting every opened door

against the gentle beast.

That time when Prince Charming 

crossed the floor;

his glass slipper fit every soul 

but yours.

Your green kissed frogs remained just frogs,

no matter how much often undertaken,

Rapunzel’s hair always too short to reach

on tiptoed love, abandoned and forsaken

like Red Riding Hood before the feast.

‘Grandma, 
what plain, ordinary eyes you have;

do contact lenses help you see it clearer?'

'Grandad, 
those tarred, rattling teeth are false, aren’t they? 
Did you lose what you loved most dear?’

Ah well: The End. 
Nearly come round at last.

But forgive and unmurder.

Shake firm, peck cheek, 

like long lost sister and brother

who lacked the breadcrumbs; 

smile at one another

from old times, 

when wishes worked in wistful sigh,

before the years had dry drained by,

and remember you're a fool to cry.