Milk bottles
Wide necked
With cardboard caps
Are things of the past
As are my walks
Along the leafy
Margins of the old canal,
Under the arches
Of high beeches
Among the bluebells
By anemones
In the springing underfoot.
Still there dear friends
For you to treasure
Cast them not aside.
JL 21. Nov 12:52
No comments:
Post a Comment