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Writer's pictureRussell Jacklin

1967 Coniston Water




Bluebird whistles in the air,

We were there, when

The bluebird dipped into the lake,

It reminds me of us, once singing sweetly

Then down,

Overcome by the black waters of indifference.

Bluebird rises up, not confidently

Spluttering shoreward, down, gone,

It reminds me of us, quick to love

Then speedily to oblivion.

Love remembered but hopelessly lost,

In those dark waters of Coniston.

We came here to recapture, rekindle, respark

We should have left it,

We should have walked away

We had to try, didn’t we

Just like the Bluebird

On those dark waters of Coniston

All gone now

Crashed, no survivors

Tried, failed, we knew

Unlike the Bluebird on the still waters of Coniston

Once was enough

We didn't need a second run,

I don’t need to be reminded anymore


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