http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
In the early autumn of 2005, the year I hit 60, I met up with a friend of the same age on nearby Hampstead Heath. We strolled into Hampstead village and enjoyed a few beers at what was then a famous gay bar (sadly, not gay any more) called The William IV. My friend lamented the fact that we golden oldies were unlikely to ever take a young man’s fancy again. I was inclined to agree, but pointed out that some young men like older guys. (I did myself until I became the older man!) ‘Not many, though, and not the likes of you and me,’my friend retorted with a wry, self-deprecating smile.
While I was inclined to agree with my friend, my thoughts flew to a spot on the Heath only a few weeks earlier where I encountered a young man in his 20s who most certainly hadn’t needed to be asked back twice for a proverbial coffee at my flat…
Strange, isn't it (or perhaps not so strange) how even a chance, one-off encounter can be assigned a place among precious memories in the amber moments of our personal history?
ANOTHER TIME, ANOTHER PLACE
I was sitting on a bench
on the sun kissed brow of a hill
observing the city below
when he came and sat next to me,
a young man with red hair
kindling images of autumn leaves,
stirring memories in me
of another time, another place,
and someone else
He started a conversation
along the lines of its being warm
for the time of year,
and I found myself swimming
in a frantic sea of sound,
body surfing sensual waves of joy
stirring memories in me
of another time, another place,
and someone else
His zip jacket was wide open,
buttons of a green shirt left undone,
bare chest teasing me
with outrageously flirty tongues
of fire filling me
with despair of a reawakening desire
stirring memories in me
of another time, another place,
and someone else
His lazy smile and pink lips
flew me into a all-devouring sunset
on wings of a tiny bird
I had watched and envied once
for such freedom
as could let a young man with red hair
stir fantasies in me
of another time, another place,
no one else
I smiled back, kept tears at bay,
but he was discerning beyond his years,
this red haired god
who (without warning) homed in
on my wishful thinking,
planting a passionate kiss on my mouth
as if resolved to erase
that other time, that other place,
someone else
Mind-body-spirit entered the bird
as he related with a (very) disarming grin
how he liked older men,
but was only passing through...
so we made the most
of the rest of that fine day, making love,
spending golden hours
in another time, another place,
no one else
Copyright R. N. Taber, 2013
In the early autumn of 2005, the year I hit 60, I met up with a friend of the same age on nearby Hampstead Heath. We strolled into Hampstead village and enjoyed a few beers at what was then a famous gay bar (sadly, not gay any more) called The William IV. My friend lamented the fact that we golden oldies were unlikely to ever take a young man’s fancy again. I was inclined to agree, but pointed out that some young men like older guys. (I did myself until I became the older man!) ‘Not many, though, and not the likes of you and me,’my friend retorted with a wry, self-deprecating smile.
While I was inclined to agree with my friend, my thoughts flew to a spot on the Heath only a few weeks earlier where I encountered a young man in his 20s who most certainly hadn’t needed to be asked back twice for a proverbial coffee at my flat…
Strange, isn't it (or perhaps not so strange) how even a chance, one-off encounter can be assigned a place among precious memories in the amber moments of our personal history?
ANOTHER TIME, ANOTHER PLACE
I was sitting on a bench
on the sun kissed brow of a hill
observing the city below
when he came and sat next to me,
a young man with red hair
kindling images of autumn leaves,
stirring memories in me
of another time, another place,
and someone else
He started a conversation
along the lines of its being warm
for the time of year,
and I found myself swimming
in a frantic sea of sound,
body surfing sensual waves of joy
stirring memories in me
of another time, another place,
and someone else
His zip jacket was wide open,
buttons of a green shirt left undone,
bare chest teasing me
with outrageously flirty tongues
of fire filling me
with despair of a reawakening desire
stirring memories in me
of another time, another place,
and someone else
His lazy smile and pink lips
flew me into a all-devouring sunset
on wings of a tiny bird
I had watched and envied once
for such freedom
as could let a young man with red hair
stir fantasies in me
of another time, another place,
no one else
I smiled back, kept tears at bay,
but he was discerning beyond his years,
this red haired god
who (without warning) homed in
on my wishful thinking,
planting a passionate kiss on my mouth
as if resolved to erase
that other time, that other place,
someone else
Mind-body-spirit entered the bird
as he related with a (very) disarming grin
how he liked older men,
but was only passing through...
so we made the most
of the rest of that fine day, making love,
spending golden hours
in another time, another place,
no one else
Copyright R. N. Taber, 2013
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