Monday, 10 October 2011


The Fall

Finally, the rain stopped
and I made my way down Prior's Walk;
paths too bare, trees too green,
had nature forgotten the season had changed,
I wondered,
like kids in the park, had they been there,
had forgotten how to play.


Jumping through puddles no more,
they dragged their feet
scattering fractured light from worn out soles


as teens around the Abbey grounds
whose hearts were buried there
called out their See you next Tuesday's,
casually, habitually,
scraping the dirt from theirs
in doorways hung
with helter skelter plants.


Who cared how many midnight trysts?
How many mouths they kissed?
Swung branches rarely left a mark, they thought
as another couple passed them by,
grey haired, in leather and jeans,
heading towards the park, hand in hand.



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