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Herringbone

The pallor of the parquet floor
Brings recollections of
School, its classrooms, its corridors

Somehow the pattern pulls
Me into a journey through
Time; conjuring images

Of art and assemblies,
Of laughter and lateness,
Of parents and pupils and plans:

For a future unknown;
For escaping the lessons
And the chill of those changing rooms.

A mishmash of memories,
But...

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Mare's Tail

(By Paul A M Palmer)

"There's only one way to kill it:
You have to dig it out."

It's what they recommend,
The locals: they have the knowledge.

Scrape and scrape the top, spade against 
The turf and tufts of lichen and moss.

“You have to deepen the trench and then
Scrabble and search for the roots.”

Black and brown in the soily ground
Its fibrous tubes and tendril...

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