There lives in the everyday
On a Wednesday late morning sidewalk
Of grimy city and in the small town
In the overcast of pregnant skies

Just plain folks
Blind enough of their own ego
To wear an immunity of self like a concrete saint

You see them in timeless pause
And watch in awe and ache
As blue and grey birds
With eyes as cloudy as your skies
Rest peacefully on their fingertips
Nurturing fat bellies with morsels of a sacred stillness

The London road is tree lined
Privet hedges and brick walls
With cast iron railing half way.

You stand mouth down turned
Yellow plastic butterfly in hand
In your ‘no added sugar stripe’.


A heart dripped out of you at the
Red painted door and Geranium
Moving is hard to say goodbye.

Love Grandmaxx