Turning the Clock BackA Poem by Chris Shaw
sometimes i return to that cold
back bedroom on the first floor of my grandparent's old terraced home where my legs fidget in bed as my younger sister dreams soundly beneath rose candlewick while i count on my abacus fingers tube trains as they rattle along electric rails on top of tall arches where brickwork is blackened by smog in the shade of the oldest tree in a postage stamp garden flooding the room with false light shaking the sash windows twitching the jaundiced net curtains out of their slumber while i try my hardest to fall like Alice down the rabbit hole into wonderland and eventually ..........into sleep
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Added on April 20, 2022Last Updated on April 20, 2022 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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