It's that fine rain that soaks you to your ....Half blind with steamed up misted glasses,
one sodden shoe from a loose tipping slab,
I am in the sodium light, Canary wharf winks between the trees
and then there's the damp wet smell of leylandi
and I'm 200 miles away and what could be as many years
in Doherty's garden
being Nick Fury dodging frisbees and brushing through the tight packed gloomy trunks
the sickly scent of pine drenches me .
And then another puddle fills the other shoe and the sirens and the pizza bike
drags me back and I hurry in.
No comments:
Post a Comment