New Common Things

It’s now a common thing

They say

For men of a certain age

To find themselves

All at sea

And wallowing in pity.

More common now

Than returning

Depleted but proud

From jobs in crowded cities.

Or toiling, brow-sweated

And tan

In outdoor work.

Instead, the common thing is

To rub the pate

And contemplate how is it

That the simplicity

Of the dedicated trudging

That those fathers before you

Indulged in

Has been rejected.

In favour of a braver

Future.

Or so you’d hoped.

The muffled, cheerful

Cackling of countless

Gatherings

While young you lay

And listened

Heart pummelling against

Your pillow

With a whispering

To what might one day be.

But that was long ago.

Now friends are shadows.

And lovers lost.

No hearty sounds

To wing you rosy

To a gentle, dull, but contented satisfaction.

Rather,

Unlike your father,

It is a common thing

They say

For men of a certain age

To listen to little but their breathing.

Feeling

Steeped

In what could have been

But now has long

Passed you by.

---