Tags

, , , , , , , ,

Suited, booted
My, how you’ve grown.
A smile plays across my lips.
 
The weather doesn’t look too good —
You grab my hand,
We pass the football ground, over the railway bridge;
Alive and abuzz.
 
Lycraed hornets dash and dart,
Cameras abound; look up on the corner and down the street;
Houses made of brick and rust; brollies and Jameses everywhere.
 
Some people see no character here.
I am reassured by the rumbling thunder that shakes my feet,
The anonymity of it all.
 
Suited, booted
My, how you’ve grown.
A smile plays across my lips.
 
© Marija Smits 2012
Advertisements