beer-lace clouds
swilling past the sun
blown leaves
© Rachel Green October 2020
two armchairs pushed together
make a rough but padded crib
at the edge of the front room.
Unused to traffic
I am woken early
by the number eleven bus
as it travels down Armstrong Road
towards Byker and the open pits.
The electric whine
of the milk float and the chink
of gold top on the doorstep.
My mother snoring softly
in the heavy Victorian bed.
I'm not allowed to get up
until I hear Granddad lighting the fire
and the whistle of the kettle
for our breakfast cup of tea.
© Rachel Green October 2020
No comments:
Post a Comment