Hindsight is late

 

- the final poem from last year's competitions:

 

Hindsight is late

 

The day before was unremarkable

The future barely rippled by the time it was over.

 

The day before devoid of rumours or disquiet

A xerox of many days before, a little less sharp, 

a little blurred,

As copies of copies tend to go.

 

The day before I kissed you goodnight, softy and present

unaware of the significance, now thankful that I did.

Absent-mindedly tidied around me, 

reset plans for the next day.

Ticked some lists, added a few more prompts.

Locked doors, swept crumbs, straightened piles

rubbed the tired rings under my eyes,

pulled curtains on the moonlit street

and set my head down, soon gone

 

oh for such mundane memories

of a utopia of slow uneven progress

a naive paradise of possibilities

yet now, those distant echoes I won’t let go