. there are railings.

there are memories. the walk to the river, past

the blasted oaks, hollow  not dead. sap still

rising.

 

down to the farriers by the bridge, his door always

open .                   fan the fire.         watched the horse

arrive,                                               we watched the work.

 

he lived in the little house next door. it is all gone now.

 

mews cottages that no one can really afford. they say

that the only affordable housing there is down dorchester.

 

the iron railings had spikes on.

 

sbm.

 

daily post – spike

 

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