Down the hill traversed so often
a well-known tree, though sometimes more.
Lacklustre to those who couldn’t know better.
Small. Simple. Secluded.

Oozing with possibility, endless realities.
This place is rich with significance.
Subtleties of every nook and cranny,
Familiar to me like the back of my hand.

No knock as I enter, though this isn’t my home.
Welcomed as one of their own.
United again my accomplice and friend
Ever ready to pick up where we left.

How can there be any care in the world?
When this world adapts to our will.
This place is for us and always will be.
For now, at least it would seem.

10 years on still sharp in my mind
how important a dull place can be.
Nostalgia, not always a comforting thing,
10 Verden Close – the last time I was free.


© Jordan Costigan