I search for me in a place

where we used to live.

Moments in time

Flicker by.

 

A series of stills.

When suddenly...

 

There I am

huddled at the bus stand

puffing out smoke rings

and listening to the sound

of taffeta snow hitting frozen ground.

 

And then as we walk on the Gill Way,

Jaws numb with the cold,

I come galloping galloping,

flat out, hair flying

listening for the shouts

of the boys.

The boys with their wild eyes

and scraggy lurchers.