the shelter

I will
quite like a wild rumpus here some time,
a make shift band, straggled procession
down the lane, chanting, scaring the neighbours.

it is often quiet here, though Kenny’s voice
carries.

there will be four of us, costumes and laughing,
happy knowing who we are, comfort in skin.

we used to push you in the toy pram, your legs
spilling out, our selves the show.

it is often quiet here now, you have grown, this
is not your area.

we walk your district quietly.
wait in the shelter.

I will
quite like a wild rumpus here some time.

sbm.

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