Sometimes we can open the curtains and think we must have heavy nets at all the windows – sea mist, low cloud? We just can’t see anything for hours or occasionally one or two days!
The sea, the sea not the right place to be
pretty for sure but no sign of a tree
then without warning it’s moody and bleak
I want hedgerows and birdsong
I won’t last the week.
Seagulls are screeching like witches at play
when I want a sparrow to brighten my day
bungalows desperately cling to the hill
jostle for space which makes me feel ill.
O.K - it’s great for a week in the sun
to walk on the pier or sit on your bum
but as Starlings gather on telephone wires
the blackest of clouds seek to threaten the stars.
I hunger for life in a south London street
a trip to the pub where we all liked to meet
black cabs, red buses, the old market scene
if you come from London
you’ll know what I mean.
I was going to add one of those yellow smiley faces, but in a hurry and couldn’t find one
The commentary on the film was a rhyme for my mother’s Easter Card a few years ago
The is of my garden in London thas I left five years ago when both my mother and my Ash tree died.
Think carefully about moving in retirement unless you have to, you might regret leaving that particular postbox at the end of the road!