there is not much more to add, it is lighter
now.                                       birds sing early.

once again we come back to ourselves.

metaphor.

which previously i called a small holding

provided us with murdered birds

heads bitten off

saved mum a job there

and when they sold it along with the old cottages set back

the bricklayers came and while  low down in their building

i ran round the back of our house despite her warning

fell

broke my head open

those brick layers took me to the hospital in their van

a towel wrapped round

two stitches

i bear the scar still

and they built bungalows

this is a little model.

it may be full of
metaphor.

it is warm and i worry
about the ice melting

spoke to others yesterday about
banning the word coping as a negative
thing, said with sympathy
head to one side.

it feels a frail word and does not apply

comes a differing hue
with duck egg blue
the ironmongers in town
at one seventy nine
we can walk there and back or there
and bus back you see
he said folk get used to anything

i find
the memories are not as you may think.
i have new ones.