Creative Works
A bit like Tai Chi
The sea moves rhythmically
Ebbing and flowing
One man
Driving
In a red mist
past bell tolling churches,
a cock and poodle pub –
stopping at a crossing.
This is the Night Mail crossing the border.
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack,
This old train ain’t coming back.
Who is that man waiting for the signal?
One man in a car.
One man in a war.
One man has forgotten,
what he is waiting for.
If any poem strikes a chord with you, tell me. Only I will see it.
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