Sat again

Sat again

On the landing

Beside the open window

The van Gogh print

Has been moved

Replaced by a sculptural affair

Both window and sculpture

Are photographed

For future reflections

Tall ceilings

Are in my life today

Long may that continue

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Café stop for breakfast

Café stop for breakfast

Just like all those years ago

On the way to work at Edwinstowe

Same as it ever was, to the last

The kitchen staff are busy as hell

Doing this, that and the other

Surely grey haired Nellie is the mother

Of the washing up daughter under her spell

And the road, to the race track

Quiet today, but not for long

Sadness, but soon to be a song

All that silent nostalgia; watch my back

Don’t forget fishing men, and holidaymakers

Looking for an early autumn break

With sausage, bacon and steak

A poetry stop with or without any takers

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He strolls across

He strolls across

The cobbled market square

Grey shorts, grey T-shirt, grey hair

She takes his arm, grey dress

But blonde hair, au naturelle

There is no disguise for love

Two construction workers

With boots, beards

And safety vests

While Mrs Robinson plays

On the cafés sound system which acts

As wallpaper for the lunchtime diners

Steak and eggs (two)

With a side of bubble & squeak

Which, probably thanks to ample butter

Is way more than simply delicious

Indeed it must be remembered

And, right here and now, it has been

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In the honeymoon phase

In the honeymoon phase

Of a relationship break-up

Before the house is sold

Or new homes identified

Another café, on another day

In a town

Without any recommendation

Other than the café

In the drilling-down essence

Of two people falling apart

Before new shoots of life

Find their way through the earth

A pair of colour-coded Italian bicycles

With matching mustard-wall tyres

Each have drop handlebars

Although neither is a female frame

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I might have caught the sun

I might have caught the sun

While looking for the shade

I might have caught your eye

While looking for distraction

Either way, going forwards

We ought to take it on, didn’t we

If for no other reason than to align

The northern star with the galaxies of love

The neat VW camper-van

Might offer the right kind of escape

As also could

The Audi three-litre metallic coupe

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