We hid under
the railway bridge
in Arch Road
by the back
of the coal wharf

it was raining
we stared out
at the falling wetness
coming down heavy

just as well
we were near here
Ingrid said
otherwise
we'd have got soaked

I peered out
the sky
was a dull grey
lightening threatened
and thunder

I felt the cold
as I huddled
into my jacket
and shirt
and blue jeans

have to stay here
until it stops
I said

she put her hands
into the pockets
of the green raincoat
she was wearing
her brown hair
pinned back
with hair grips
was damp

suppose so
but it could be ages
and my mum'll worry
if I’m too late
Ingrid said

I peered at the sky

hopefully won't be
too long

I looked at her
standing next to me

we  could always
start a fire
if we get too cold
I said
I''ve got matches
and there's
an old newspaper
over there
and bits
of old wood
from the bomb site
and coal over there

she didn't look
impressed

we can wait
and see
she said

I've lit fires
before here
I said

she looked
at me doubtfully

over there
in the corner
a fair size one

she looked
at the corner
how did you
put it out after?
she asked

I peed on it
I said

she gazed at me
her mouth open
her mildly
buck teeth smiling
at me

what if someone
saw you?

no one can see
from here
not under
this bridge
apart from tramps
or hobos
who hide here
sometimes at night
but it was daytime then
I said

she stared out
at the rain

sometimes Benedict
you are not good
to know
she muttered

I smiled
gazed at the sky

two 8 year olds
hiding
from the rain
and I said
I wonder why?

I hate school
because teacher Giraffe is always
picking on me
in his high and lofty manner
He's always pointing at me
with his prehensile tongue
and snorting: "Maybe you'd
like to stop laughing
and share your joke
with the rest of animal class?"

But I don't know no joke;
I just laugh

Here the autumn makes
prettiest place for me
a quaint placid lake
with wind’s lullaby!

A cloud mirrored hush
thicket’s lone butterfly
spell stricken grass
in awe of the sky!

This sight the autumn makes
seems so wispy to my feel
like flying pollen flakes
catching dreams by the jhil!

The feathered bloomy light
on this day by the lake
soon would melt from my sight
leaving trail as an ache!

There is solace in being alone
Memories etched in the heart
Loneliness cannot breach
Memoirs scripted by them
Every word infused with love

i hate how i always
seem to forgot to
cherish every moment
when it occurs

i hate how i always
seem to forgot to
cherish every person
while i am loving them

so a year later,
when i look back
at those memories;
well, that's all these
places and people
become.

they become
**memories.

She's an alphabet artist
she paints in words,

from a palette of adjectives,
nouns and verbs,

the landscape she finds
in the folds of her mind

she exhibits in volumes of verse.

Kicking the rusty leaves
crumpled by the tree
seeds and twigs broken off
golden and free.
Polished conkers rest
waiting to be smashed
strung up with string
bruised, soaked and bashed.
Russet apples wither in the sun
pecked at by robins and wrens.
Purple clover gather in the distance
on the hills and glens.
Pears drip from branches
like water from a wooden tap.
Twigs point like a human finger
showing the way to follow a map.
Through the ochre wood and
across the sienna fields.
The gathered sticky corn
piled high that the farmer yields
The Autumn season is pure gold
Raspberry sunset and peach skies.
A woodpecker perches, waits awhile
In the Autumn air then off he flies.

The ruddy footworn path is wild and long,
Tracing down all of my woodland years,
Shorter in front, longer behind, fading song,
Was its form cut by me or the grazing deer?