Saturday, 20 April 2013

Saturday poem for NaPoWriMo

April 20th


The green paint has peeled off the garden heater
after years of wintering and sun
and underneath, the rust is rough and dotted.
It reminds me of an aerial map,
the rust is the earth, red as South Devon soil,
the dots are buildings flowing down
the cliff face to the harbour where the green sea laps
in the bay and the curved lines across the rust are strata,
layer upon layer holding stories of the past.

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