Lost in the grey
of an evening
in Bruges;
On streets I no longer recognise
searching for those bars
whose names I no longer remember,
where I was enveloped in a
pervasive aroma of wheat beer
that hovered aloft like incense
at altars I once worshipped at;
The Belfort Tower still towers above
an intricate labyrinth of crook backed,
criss crossed narrow streets
whose timeless mise-en-scene
admonishes me for not staying longer;
From a distance,
thro’ a smoke misted window pane
a jingle jangle jukebox
whispers inarticulately
remnants of a melody
that once was the anthem
of lives lived long ago.
An excellent juxtaposition of memories and nostalgia, sights and smells.
remnants of the past never gone easy… embed one in our being, a piece of a whole…