a poem by Andrew Taylor
Somewhere a bird will be singing its song
on a grey day rain allows daylight reflections Bold Street lunch-time gossip shopping lists plans semi-protected saunters towards the river from broken pipes adds flow along deserted pavement cobbles pedestrianization a sanitization culture bunker forced toward suburbia Bold Street two girls debate the merits of exclusion with an aging poet silver drops on leaves somebody here smells of Angel somewhere a bird will be singing its song boutique Beatles hotel Christine sat typing exams there No Unauthorised Persons Beyond This Point calming measured at traffic lights a car sits beyond the vista altered from when we witnessed a full eclipse creating dusk at 11:00 a.m. |