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Dynamo Memory
Under my black plastic cape
Knees pump up and down.
Tyres swish over tarmac.
Flicking the Sturmey-Archer
Lever to the lowest gear,
Standing to push the pedals harder,
Zig-zagging the front wheel
Up Imberhorne Lane.
I alone can have this memory
Not some other boy, his sodden
School cap cutting into his brow,
Coasting now as the star-constellation
Of East Grinstead rises above the fields.
The recollection comes and goes
Like the power from the bike's dynamo.
If I pause, the light glimmers down.
The harder I push, the more the lamp shines. |
