Between the high grey residential block
and the busy, noisy Japanese street
there’s a small park: three tall trees
in a broad bed of grey slate chips;
...
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roll over & die all ready, old dog... you're the only boring fart around here - oh wait and the rest of the dribbling brits hogwashing it up.
I was going to say I love the penultimate stanza, before realising I love it all. t x
Thank you. I found here a picture of a timeless, timefilled moment that soothed the spirit. Elegant phrasing.
I loved your poem. It painted a picture in my mind. Thanks for sharing.