the wood is rain-green and lumbar absent
dogs
run
mad for nothing and sniff its concrete plinth
its the same bench
and the same view
low buildings and farmers squares and the estuary a grey fuzz
before
rolling Kent
trees hide the QEII bridge of suicides and queues
but
with different people
at a different time of day
its
like
a
painting revamped to fit
and
sometimes the light and me are solid chrome
but
if the inside sun is there
then
music
sounds how it should again
all bubbles and bells and feeling
No comments:
Post a Comment