High above the river
gorse fraudulently beautiful in the robes of flower
rushes down to the water
like children escaping the classroom.
Overhead a bold sun
welcome and unshielded
as it always was before melanoma
watercolour blue sky
Vacant – the vacancy of escaped dreams.
Silence is illusion
attention can hear
breeze couriered bee murmurings.
A low growl….. a mating call
a freight train greets its siding date.
Distance shrinks diesel smokestacks to childhood memory
clockwork replica orbiting English villages
engines, signals, stations. Innocence.
Consummation complete, the trains separate
one becomes two – then none.
The chapter is finished, the sun moves
so must I.
Mornings are for cleaning, afternoons receiving guests
this is how I spend my exile
Here there are no questions – this town knows refugees
false documentation is passed without scrutiny.
For the story behind a story click Backstage