I carry Aberystwyth
in the threads of my coat,
in the scuffs on my boots;
the sea salt, sand swept
into the fibres.
And now I stand here
in Jardin du Luxembourg,
thinking about the bench
by the well,
I sat on looking out to sea,
watching the starlings dance,
while considering the possibility
of perhaps, one-day, maybe
living in Paris.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
I carry Aberystwyth
in the threads of my coat,
in the scuffs on my boots;
the sea salt, sand swept
into the fibres.
And now I stand here
in Jardin du Luxembourg,
thinking about the bench
by the well,
I sat on looking out to sea,
watching the starlings dance,
while considering the possibility
of perhaps, one-day, maybe
living in Paris.
Written March 2017.