The Poetry Reading

Thought I’d drop down,

where the drizzle was

pouring cold water over Spring,

to look through the school window.

Turned out the children were long gone.

There were the old folk,

drained grey like the day,

sitting in their old places,

their old smiles like candle light.

The innocence of discovery

had vanished, and in its place

a resigned detachment,

refined observation

and a wry retreat.

No playground fighting here,

No desperate passion.

Just once, the bloody talons

of cold fury were declaimed.

Just once, I saw a world I knew,

But it fell on straining ears

like a sad Victoria sponge


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