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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

Here now skyline assembles fire.
The sun collects up to leave.
Its bright following paled,
suddenly all goes. Dusk rushes
in, like door closed on windowless room.

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;

Let in the Stars
Poem

We turn our faces up and jiggle thirty toes,
Morse-coding longing with our restless beat.
When will it come?
Shepherds on the first Nativity, we scan the skies
and huddle,