An Imaginary Walk With David Bowie

An (Imaginary) Walk With David Bowie

The valley falls away beneath our feet

The path feels coarse and crumbling, rough stones underfoot

We have to watch our step, yet he seems to find it easy going

As he capers and prances along beside me

His puckish face alight with the possibility of mischief

The dark hills shelter the incoming rain-clouds

Yet this crack’d actor, now in his golden years,

Simply scampers along, over the stiles and through the gates

As we wander with purpose from station to station

His androgynous form somewhat at odds with his surroundings

The muddy fields gradually slow our progress

I’m feeling unwashed and somewhat slightly dazed

Yet David, the prettiest star, seems un-bothered

By the gathering storm, the changes in the landscape

And the sound and vision of sweeping rain

And soon the moon emerges

Its light catching the spangles and sparkles

In his Ziggy Stardust lycra body-suit

And the glint of his mischievous smile

A man who fell to Earth, a space oddity

A starman stranded on our planet

I’m deathly tired, and I stumble on the footpath

And still this wild-eyed boy from Freecloud

Is full of energy, and nothing but supportive

“Better hang on to yourself” he says

Or “let’s dance!” as he pirouettes in front of me

I stare ahead, irresolute to reach our goal

But he’s looking at the stars, wondering if there’s life on Mars

A thin white duke, a laughing gnome, a rock n’ roll suicide

Major Tom, the Jean genie, the man who sold the world

Less than a rebel, rebel, but more a lad insane

I feel too low, I have not half his energy

So I pursue our direction through the downward dale

And I wonder if he’s really there

Or some figment of a tired mind

Some temporary imagining, an occasional dream

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2019