. oswald’s tree.

never fails to excite .with all the talk of leaves

here, falling, i am interested to see another breed

of folk that love and gather.

remind me of roseberry road, the younger days.

 

sat in the upper room, read a letter to his mum,

about the trenches, the first world war,  wished

to drown his sorrow in  that bloodied mud. the floor

tilted, a scrap lay crumpled.

 

each room has a different door.

we left, fell the last few steps.

 

sbm.

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5 thoughts on “. oswald’s tree.

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