Bring me sunshine



It’s bitter walking to the post office

And I’ve acknowledged at least a dozen faces

I’m acquainted with  


Despite the deep depression

I’ve never seen this street so rammed


Even the queue for fish is ridiculous


And there are long lines at each cash point

Where again I have to nod and smile




Despite the wettest April on record

And a promise of more to come


The post office is bustling

With mother's mostly

And a baby screaming itself crimson

Fractures my thoughts


I collect a passport form and leave


Outside on the street

Something with dead haddock eyes

Holds out a hand for change


I wave it away

Then pull my collar up over my ears


As the first of that forecast drops like bombs.

◄ Cold case

Repeat performance ►


Profile image

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Fri 11th May 2012 17:32

'Outside...a hand for change' is chilling, followed by '...drops like bombs'. IMO, in your work, the exactly obvious is never what you're really saying, even if you think it is. Whatever - what you choose to see and do and write about greatly interests my mind.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message