Sunday, 4 February 2018

4th February 2018

yesterday's rain
washing away the dog shit
from the pavement

© Rachel Green 2018

across the road
the black door of number seventy-six
where a girl peers out.
She's about twelve,
pretty in the way all young girls are
in track suit and tee shirt
and a little black jacket against the cold.
She hugs herself,
jumps up and down, ponytail flying
waiting for someone.
Her dad, maybe,
while her gran watches over her
from the warmth of the living room window
as the number two bus rolls past.

© Rachel Green 2018

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