Winter in Wimbledon

No daffodil songs no roses that bloom sunshine don’t enter this cold lonely room scents can’t get in, no sense in them trying, trying to blot out the sound of my crying Locks on the windows bars on the door four inches of concrete that they call the floor, but there’s a crack in the…

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Cobblestone paths

Past the barges easing along the canal, over the aqueduct, sucking the morning into my lungs, flinging my satchel of schoolbooks because tomorrow never comes and then off to the islands for a pirate’s day out, tickling trout (the rainbow kind) lunch well deserved for the deserving mind. I loved the river the smell and…

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Summer of ’64

Sand turned to glass, castles became see through and life was a keepsake. It was ours for the taking until the developers moved in and the glass became opaque castles in the lake and Avalon weeps. In this half waking state the night in abeyance, the day has to wait for its time it comes…

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