Wanstead flats

Here and there
twenty minutes is where
I write.

Sitting tight or
standing light on my feet
listening to the beat of
the rhyme.

And time doesn’t care
If you’re there
It knows that you will be
one day.

In the underground torpedo
I go where the lines go
and the lines seem to
lead me to you.

I write on until the words
are gone and I come to an
end which is just a beginning,
time sits on my shoulder grinning
at me.

In being nearly there although I feel that I’m here I think to myself that life is quite clearly queer, but the thought like the tube train disappears down the dark track and I’m back to where I think I belong.

© 2016, John Smallshaw.