Lament for a lost landscape
There are no trees in Orchard Ride Nor apples ripe at autumn tide Save for those in cellophane From Tesco, Waitrose or some such name. No roots, no trunks nor grass between No insects, bugs or things unseen Just bricks…
Poetry, bikes, dementia...
Poetry, bikes, dementia...
There are no trees in Orchard Ride Nor apples ripe at autumn tide Save for those in cellophane From Tesco, Waitrose or some such name. No roots, no trunks nor grass between No insects, bugs or things unseen Just bricks…