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Currently viewing: Poetry » 1995

Pavement Tourist

Under the metal.
storm grate -
the water gently flows; through
the old brick channels

I stand, listening,
reminding myself of
walks long ago, of
waves breaking on the
seaside sands.

Looking up, I notice the
grey,
concrete,
monolithic buildings,
and I realise how
far away
my memories are.

 

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