Saturday, April 27, 2013

Prompts: Sunday April 28th


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

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