I am writing images, reactions on returning to a town south of Berlin that I first visited ten years ago. Then, despite the decay and loss of so many young people west, I felt something special about this place, something good. I still do.
granny
after the storm
then the collapse
I've known this town
slowly
paint pots are out
plants overflow balconies
the empty rail tracks
don't seem to matter
now
the trees are
burgeoning
prams are pushed
through dappled light
the children chase shadows
whooping for joy
young adults now
know not the past
and good that is
but granny
just stares
Poetry by Peter Humphreys
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Written on 2016-06-13 at 16:56
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Texts |
by Peter Humphreys Latest textslifethe grey green sea emboldened beyond beyond we knelt |
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