Autumn Afternoon – Christopher Matthew

Where are we going? I wish I knew.
To Bali? Or Mali? Or even Peru?
On a luxury cruise with our friends John and Prue?
Somewhere. Anywhere. Haven’t a clue.

Where are going? The years drift by
Last year we went for a week to Dubai.
I tried to play golf – I thought I would fry.
It was so bloody boring, I wanted to cry.

If I were a sailor, I’d pop down to Cowes
Or drift down the Nile on a couple of dhows.
If I were a skier, I’d book up a chalet
In Wengen or Mürren or down in the Valais.

Where are we going? The brochure’s aglow
With sunshine and beaches and tours of Bordeaux,
And silver-haired couples in evening dress
Enjoying the pleasures of bouillabaisse.

We’ve been on safari, we’ve been to Hong Kong.
We’ve been to Bangkok, on a boat, up a klong.
We’ve been to Vienna and heard the Boys’ Choir
And sat eating clams on Cape Cod round a fire.

Is there anywhere left, now the world is so small
That hasn’t been ruined by touristic sprawl?
Perhaps we should sit here and watch the night fall
And get ready to take last journey of all ….

Christopher Matthew (From “Now We Are Sixty”)

Based on: Spring Morning

Where am I going? I don’t quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups grow-
Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow-
Anywhere, anywhere. I don’t know.

Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
Where am I going? The shadows pass,
Little ones, baby ones, over the grass.

If you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You’d sail on water as blue as air,
And you’d see me here in the fields and say:
‘Doesn’t the sky look green today?’

Where am I going? The high rooks call:
‘It’s awful fun to be born at all.’
Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:
‘We do have beautiful things to do.’

If you were a bird, and lived on high,
You’d lean on the wind when the wind came by,
You’d say to the wind when it took you away:
‘That’s where I wanted to go today!’

Where am I going? I don’t quite know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow-
Anywhere, anywhere. I don’t know.

Alan Alexander Milne