#amwriting #poem #poetry #sketchbook last bus

Beyond Exeter, a refrain we heard
for miles on end
until we sank into a numbness

...........

Lunch was eaten late, the plates unwashed wait
with the cultery
almost correct at the time. Weekend breaks
against, dragging us from the bubble of free
love and free time.

...................

You surprise me, by wearing low heeled shoes
that mark us out

...........

The rattle of cash, rings from the arcade
as we  pass.
We both have that glow of soreness, hard gained,
from a weekend gone to quick. The splash
of traffic thickens

.....

The rattling cash, rings from the arcade
as we hurry past.
That certain splash of traffic thickens, frays,
as turning past the closing shops the last
busker counts her change. The shopping centre
clock shows we have the time, but I speed up,
being the gentleman, I don't want you
late for the last bus you need, to enter
back into

.....