PROMPTS
He lived out on The Downs
He was in casual clothes, heavy cord trousers, brown shoes
He waved and then picked up the phone
Four weeks and four days now, she still hadn't run
His leather furniture, his green-glassed lamps
Sharp, on-top, assertive
She was slim, he was underweight
Today she is resting with friends
What happens to the dirt we sweep?
Small, ordinary, with a cobbled high-street
We hold hands and step out
After the opera, walking back to the car
Please don't grow up too soon
I make my way tentatively, trying to not feel pain
The puppy in your underpants
My sister in a white dress, stained
Are you sure it's not 1962?
You can try but it won't stand up in court
On Sundays he wore his suit
The waters running over me
I was about to call you Daddy
It hangs on the back of a chair in the kitchen
I almost know where we live, or how
When I was twelve we had a cat
There was a village here once, I'm sure of it
No comments:
Post a Comment