Thursday, 7 July 2011


2. Damp Patch

He walks down the street,
a damp patch on the trouser legs of
each knee where he'd knelt in the borders
tending to voluptuous flowers,
and thinks of a time when
children played on new bikes and
sold Kool-Aid from fruit-box tables,
where mothers walked babies in
polished chrome strollers,
and people laughed or hollered
friendly greetings as if tomorrow would
surely be the same, the sun shine,
grass stay green in a summer's heat
and porch doors close with graceful ease.