Get Published on Female First

Get Published on Female First

In the kaleidoscope of the town,

my sinews constrict with the seasons.

On the mortar and tarmacadam

through age old streets and alleyways

moving quad bikes and BMWs

fly by in the autumn,

and gnarled trees

are my garden guests.

I am living in this icy

town, this unforgiving countryside

with a pumpkin outside the door,

knowing these roads

will taste of bonfires, trick-or-treat and Halloween.

Children enjoy the rain, and

not one is surprised here, not even

when, catapulting towards us with a beard

hiding his face,

comes Father Christmas.

I can only speak of my winter town.

My sullen four bedded house dripping cold rain,

the moonless night, repetitive swaying trees

and blackbirds haunting the branches.

If we stick together as the year fades,

the Spring air will warm our cold bodies.

Forgotten bulbs will rise once more,

and Springtime sprout a yellow milk smile.