Everything is attached ...

Running rest-day ...

... here's an old favourite, with thanks to this 1994 Hugo Williams collection, about the personal (yet also universal) nature of memory:


Everyone Knows This

Every object, every action,
a light suddenly switched on,
a door left open,
carries a hidden watermark
of joy or joylessness,
hope or hopelessness,
which must reveal itself
in the look on someone's face.

Children crying in the next door house,
young men going to work,
the saxophone solo
in 'I'm Gonna Be a Wheel Some Day',
are sorrowful or reassuring
depending on a smell of garlic
drifting up from downstairs,
or the sound of a horse race.

We live in a tiny place
where everything is attached
to something else, more precious.
Dog-barks, head-shakes,
unexpected knocks
bring tears to our eyes.
A box of Brillo pads
comes close to happiness.

----

How very true those first three lines, in that last stanza.