Blue Key Heart

The smell and halo rings of cheap cigars,

The heavy heart of keys for unknown doors,

The moments sweet, in third hand estate cars

The hoovering of blue strewn bedroom floors,

The tides of laughter: Dawson, Brooks, and Marx,

The flower ritual; the supermarket sweep,

The words through woods and along paths in parks.

The Christmas gin that begged you weep

The blues records that pulled your tapping foot.

The hammering in of chopsticks on the keys

The embracing of coal bags all smeared in soot

The picture dance of clouds and rocks and seas

The kissing of beach pebbles at a can

The might and hit and heart of our old man.