‘Innisfil’ is from my second book, The Quarterly. It looks back on a summer long ago, bike riding with my friend Patrick, cruising without a care - lost in the moment, the days long and free, a time of life long gone.
Lyrics
Innisfil
It was simplicity
Natural grace
The glare of spoke wheels over smooth black asphalt
A warm August wind in our air
Riding the 25th line.
We rode our old bikes
Under blue skies
You and me on our flying machines
Making sense of time
And the hours were long
As the days whispered
Eternally we rode
Naked with summer
Passing elegant swaying fields
Majestic stamped clouds
Your tattooed arm next to mine.
Simplicity
Natural grace
Drifting away to some far of place
Where the world’s pain seemed so far away.
© Fredrick Brooks 2013
