Further reworking/editing of the new poem.
A Farewell to her arms
A luminous April Fool’s day - sunlight
soft as baby’s first blonde hair
brushed against the right cheek.
An autumnal day of slanted light;
a last promise to meet
in a future never to be met.
Life intrudes and roosts - curled toes
and ruffled feathers, pigeons
in the shadows of truly intended words.
In the distance, the calls of men,
umpires' whistles and the faint thwump
of a leather ball being kicked.
Skin shivered beneath the chequered
flannelette shirt - what distant events
might kick-start this leather again?
No comments:
Post a Comment