Thomas'o Thames

I met him by the Thames
One damp, dim Autumn afternoon.

He wore green trousers, a cap
And red cheeks.

His rod hung like sleepy light
Drinking the brown water.

'No fish' he chanted, eyes
aflame, all blue and bright.

We sat beside the weir
Watching the foam play.

'I'm not old' he said, pulling
upon a briar pipe.

'I'm simply tired of being young.' That was all he said

As we sat in striped deckchairs
And at six o'clock

It began to rain.