Don’t Play in the Traffic
they met on a zebra crossing
it was a pedestrian affair
she had an air of competence
he…just had an air
they went downhill from there
to her house
in the middle of a roundabout
near the station
one morning they looked out
and the cars had changed rotation
the clouds were tinged
with a tawdry shade of orange
the sky was diffident
the sun judgmental
things would not be the same
would not be the same again.
You do not disappoint with your poetry. I enjoy the wordplay and the obvious fun you’re having writing.
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Thanks Suzanne, that’s very kind of you, glad you are enjoying the blog and yes, you are right I have no end of fun writing this stuff! JIM
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Very clever!!
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Thanks, Eilene!
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It’s always the sky’s fault, or the cars’ fault or the stars’ fault. Shakespeare got that wrong. It’s so good that we don’t have to blame ourselves. An enjoyable piece, Jim.
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Thanks Steve!
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