The Red Note Book (Poetry)

I found a notebook on the bus
wedged tight beside my seat —
a plain red cover with no name
inside, the writing neat

and page on page of careful lines
a sad-sweet story told
that gripped my heart and filled my head
as tragedy unrolled...

The journey flew by as I read —
I almost missed my stop
then, in a trance, I walked as though
some waking dream, unlocked,

had taken and transported me
some place I used to know —
I recognised the shape of hills
from childhood — long ago...

The city streets dissolved in mist —
the buildings now were trees
the traffic’s roar diminished to
a soothing hum of bees

and laughter echoed through a field —
left nothing of dull grey
paving stones — the grass grown lush
down lanes of yesterday...

I took the book up to my room
and read it through the night —
the hand that wrote it so precise
those narrow lines so tight...

Maybe I fell asleep because
I really can’t recall
what made me climb out on the roof
or how I came to fall...

When I explained about the book
that I’d found on the bus
the nurse just smiled, indulgent, said
I shouldn’t make a fuss

or else they’d never let me out —
they’d made that pretty clear
yet strangely I feel quite at home
as though belonging here...

I’ve asked them for a pen and pad —
I have this urge to write
down all that I remember
and relive that fateful night

for the last page was a blank one
and it’s certain I’m possessed —
I must finish what was started
and so put old ghosts to rest...