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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Feb 14
Tolls.
Those restless limbs
torn
by future talk of psalms and hymns
they crooned and sighed
then crucified
Neighbours talking over the garden gate
headscarves high
late sixties on the council estate.
I'm going shopping
said Mum
and off she'd run to
catch the bus
which came at twenty past and twenty to
the hour.
I miss her.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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Rick
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Weeping willow
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