Up on Church Hill
I think of my love
& Tennyson, long gone
Up on Church Hill

Up on Church Hill
I look out at Steep Holm
and then at Clevedon pier
Up on Church hill

Up on Church Hill
the last swallows are soaring,
last summer days calling
Up on Church Hill

Up on Church Hill
by the poets’ walk
I sit as it gets dark
Up on Church Hill

Up on Church Hill
I shall leave my heart
& then depart
Old Church Hill

for him a.k.a Rembrandt, a fellow poet & love of my life-

I think of you in the conservatory
of the Little Harp Inn, on the seafront
is this where you came too
is this the place you meant
in your poems when you spoke
in them of  the ‘ glass tearooms’?
a ginger waiter brings a couple
their tea. Outside, a thunderstorm is raging
suddenly, there sounds a cry:
‘’ Look, the roof is leaking!’’
& bright lightning again splits the sky
just like love, striking
Everyone laughs in wonder
& an old lady walks by in pink
outside, without an umbrella
in this, Clevedon in the summer