Sunlight through
The upstairs windows
Back and front
It’s almost like
Being back at college
With plenty time to write
Just two classes
Each week
One for writing, one for poetry
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Sunlight through
The upstairs windows
Back and front
It’s almost like
Being back at college
With plenty time to write
Just two classes
Each week
One for writing, one for poetry
I remember the moment
Distinctly
Yet I have no visual support
I could build a construct
From what I know
Short, white, denim skirt
Short-sleeve cotton top
Almost a tennis outfit
But with way more style
A damp day in Revesby
Slow rain flows down the window pane
I go outside to stop the garden door banging
There is much to do
I put milk in my coffee
Instead of on my cereals
Adobe cannot find my specifications
And neither can I
I watch the video
Projected onto the fireplace wall
I am reminded of the photographs
And eventually find the file-path
A damp day in Revesby
Elements takes eight minutes to render
Although my son tells me, that back in the day
It would have taken at least half-a-life
I drink the cold water
I taste, then eat, the cold baked beans
I peel, then devour, the indistinct tangerine
Why so expansive
Why so interested
What have I done
To deserve this
Yes it was a place
From my past
Central to the city
Where I might have found you
Yet without any love interest
Not anyone that I remember
Bur why would I
It was such a long time ago