Writing

My Bit of Britain

There's a threat of rain
Lingering outside the window
The traffic noise has gone
No longer ever-present
And it's left too much silence.

So maybe Friday morning's
unimportant.
But last year in those miniature
Memories I've stored away
I found the winter hiding
Down in the swing park
Daffodil park
Knocking dewdrops from benches
Once upon a time
I was the highest swinger in the world.

The streets feel different now.
Dirty, polluted, noisy. City life
Cleaned by a century of rain
I only just noticed that
the trees have got no leaves.

There's something in the air
That bites in the early hours
Misty rain leaking through
The cracks in my clothes
The waterfall I watched with you
(So long ago)
Looks so much better when it's like this.
Dripping over moss soaked stones
Into semi-circular ripples.

So maybe we can dance
Across bright green fields Hand in hand
And I know I'll get my legs soaked again
Because my trousers
Are just that bit too long.
It's hard to realise when things are
Changing.

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