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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
May 2022
A statue stole into me.
unmoving like the traffic
on the Northern Gyratory,
She waits for me
I wait for her
but we won't be going anywhere.
Progress progresses slowly when
you're trying to get there quickly.
Meanwhile
in a building block,
the stock in trade of
the housing brigade
he
decides to
and then forgets to
and who knows
perhaps it's for the best.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
69/Here and now
(69/Here and now)
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