At the Checkout
How did it happen
that I told the lady,
a mum from the playground,
everything?
.
These acquaintances
are emergency services,
they pick you up
when needed,
then let go
gracefully.
.
We all understand.
It is a small town.
that I told the lady,
a mum from the playground,
everything?
.
These acquaintances
are emergency services,
they pick you up
when needed,
then let go
gracefully.
.
We all understand.
It is a small town.
.
‘All the nest’
I love my own typo.
I want to offer
all the people I know
the best one in the whole world.
All the best nests
are made of this type
of mess of words.
.
.
Sarah loves poetry readings and adores all the chat afterwards. She blogs at http://www.shinynewcomputer.blogspot.com
Advertisements
Wonderful, humble, touching, real-life poems. I love them!
How sweet is this one, in particular: “At the Checkout.” I live in a real small town and this poem rings true. Of course, wherever we live there’s a small town somewhere in there.
Love “The Checkout”
Pingback: A backdrop of books, fingerprints and late butterflies or Blog of Oxford event – Stop 4 Quiet Compere National Tour 2015 | thequietcomperenationaltour2015