Poems

Poem

Now we're up on the edge

and over, on the mountain

with mountains beyond. Behind us,

            in the dark

Poem

We're floating into the blue,
Me and my blue balloon.
Over the rooftops of the town,
The brown fields and the trees
And the Downs – we're floating,

Poem

The seagulls are doing their dance again – Wings clasped to their sides, they stare up the street.
Up and down, up and down, go their knobbly pink knees;