Now here

Now here

Know where

To belong

For way longer

Than you thought

Making out

You are

Staying in

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We are approaching

We are approaching

Old Town

Which is a place

Definitely a place

But there’s nothing there to do

This afternoon

There is an Old Town Inn

And an Old Town Café

But both are securely closed

I’m quite happy

No you are not

It probably thinks

That you are an Agapanthus

We could hire

A buggy tomorrow

To see more of the island

But why

Why would I want to do that

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Moss

Moss

Moss and

Lichen

All over the tree

Wildlife

Ponds neglected

Neglected

By the likes of you and me

September Sunday wetlands

Wetlands for the lonely

The quiet

And the outlandishly free

One stick per person

To prod, prod

To release the inquisitive

Inside of you and me

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There will just be a wait

There will just be a wait

The first words she uttered

Just like Loudon’s grand-daughter

When hat, that’s what she muttered

And the Birmingham accents

Are already wingeing, in the way

That only they can, and do

Portents of black country grey

Later summer in the Scillies

Sun, sand, sea and sea

Late autumn with the hillbillies

Scornful of those living simply to be

Yesterday the wedding party

Today the hangover service

All the cakes are taken

Except a muffin to purchase

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Sunday morning showers

Sunday morning showers

Will the cricket match resume

Vases of flamboyant flowers

The bunting flaps in tune

History is as history is

So another one departs us

We fawn and kneel to kiss

In life of life we trust

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