The Odeon

 

Neil Harding McAlister

 

 

They say The Odeon went bust --

That graveyard of desire! --

Where unrequited teenage lust

Produced more smoke than fire.

Old movies blurred into the haze

Of all we’ve done and seen.

The remnants of our salad days

Reluctantly we packed away

In trunks of might-have-beens.

 

Now, half a lifetime later, greet

The friends whom once we’d known;

And in their ageing faces meet

Reflections of our own.

Now at long last we can set down

Worn baggage we have carried.

When we return to our home town,

It’s friendly handshakes all around

As someone’s Mom is buried.

 

Somewhere between the smiles and tears

A childhood gets misplaced:

The landmarks of our younger years,

Torn down without a trace.

Nostalgic hearts seek what is gone,

Reality explains.

She gently chides, the curtain’s drawn;       

The show is over.  Run along.          

You can’t go home again.

 

 

 

   © 2004, NHM