Green fields moss-stitched with beet or fuzzed
this seat taken the service to London Waterloo
with shoots of winter wheat copper leaves on forest
finish your drink our next station good for you
floors sky bleached to old denim by February sun
behave what’s this dump don’t flush while seated
greendark cuttings dazzle of silver frosted roofs
hello on the train mind your fingers relax
flint-grey platforms splatted white with cockle
suspicious items I can’t help already said that
shells of chewing gum and gobs of pigeon shit
information have a sandwich in all carriages
yellow brick terraces rusty cars in wreckers’ yards
want a roll it’s a small town kill my husband
metal-clad office blocks with art deco curves
too damp dadada see a show have a drink
building sites where bony cranes pause to confer
get lost arriving at I don’t know what to do.
Sharon is retired and lives in Dorset. Her poems have been published on websites including Ink, Sweat and Tears, Algebra of Owls and Snakeskin.
Wonderful!
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Twofer
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Love this.
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