Poetry by Cosmo Goldsmith
From my bedroom window, overlooking
this tableau stillness of sheds and fields,
there is movement below
among the avenue of chestnut trees.
A paperboy ghosting through stippled shade,
luminous orange postbag strapped tightly
across his thin shoulders, first job perhaps,
so young he seems, restless and impatient,
eager to complete his round on schedule,
and keep in check the heavy tread of time,
those allotted hours and binding routines.
This is the crossover point he has reached
where suburbs give way and the fields begin;
a whole future unfolding before him
in misted prospects of treetops and hills.
And all I can do is watch and observe
from the opposite end of the telescope,
from the shrinking lenses of my vision,
for all my outlooks are gently receding.
The world out there belongs to him.
Cosmo Goldsmith is a ‘semi-retired’ English teacher with a passion for all forms of creative writing. He has taught in both the UK and Greece and still divides his time between these two countries.
