MUSICAL MEMORY

The Bootleg Beatles in a London park

I'd heard them once before and they are good.

We'd booked our tickets, brought a picnic lunch

when rain began.

We ate beneath the station, overhang

and cracked a sparkling bottle, two old tramps

among the litter, keeping our eyes fixed upon

the threatening sky.

It was still raining when we reached the field.

The stage protected by it's canopy was lit.

An audience of hundreds grouped about

on the wet grass.

under umbrellas, some in folding chairs

others on groundsheets, leaning back-to-back

supported by the expectation of delight.

Power of nostalgia.

And it was great. The music wonderful.

The four performers brought the past to life

and oh! those songs are really superfine.

The rain came down.

Dancing under our wet hair and shining eyes,

arms linked with those of anyone nearby,

the rhythm in our heads and feet.

Rain petered out.

The projected onto the pale canopy

glowing against the purple evening sky

processed a scatter of round smiling faces

edged with flame.

We were encouraged by optimistic words

basked in the music's warmth and gratitude

singing in damp darkness edged by dripping trees

'Here Comes the Sun'.

- on Prose with my chaperone

M Smythe 80