a milk blue evening sun

the colour of cold skin

has calmed the day’s heat,

and the irritating chill

that played hide and seek

all day in the garden has

gone home at last,

over dinner we talked,

seriously for once, about

moving to a smaller place

before it’s too late and

pondered over what the

children would think,

after that, we both felt hollow

and couldn’t remember

tasting the food we’d eaten,

whilst this place has been

good to us we both agreed

it wouldn’t be fair to leave

the other to sort out the

mess if either of us

decides to clock off early,

a home is a second skin

that breathes with you,

not a favourite coat that

is easily discarded,

looking out from my desk

there’s now a city

where the fields once were

when we moved in here

forty years ago, a view

across a lifetime that

we never noticed

disappearing

© Graham R Sherwood 5/25