I was a child
a stranger
in old streets
A tree
bore my name.
And in every
open door
dwelled
a creak calling me
like a lover
like a labourer
from the coal mine
like a busted gun
like a stranger gutted
in an empty window
like a child
wondering if life
was all black and white
before the magic of colour tv.
now wondering
what of the wind
what made boots heavier
when for forty years
a tree unbending
has bore my name
and my love
the Town Hall
has gone
and the same old leaves
are still choking the same old drains.
