Poetry Blog by Graham Sherwood

The audience is very sparse tonight

thirty-odd at best, evenly spaced by choice

barring a few couples mostly widowed.

As an incomer, I sit behind

and count the turnout of tight grey heads,

locals, none under seventy.

Although the surroundings are familiar

none take off their coats, as if making ready

for a swift exit.

They ‘otch’ uncomfortably, all chewing toffees

bet...

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