There is more

There is more

To behold than scorched earth

Charred remains

Are cosmopolitan

An old brown shoe

Speaks in tongues

A torn silk shirt

From Savile Row

A shard of glass

That was a goldfish bowl.

A bright young thing

In yellow

A photograph on a piano

Finely balanced

De-tuned

Broken plates

And displaced litter bins.

Bare trees scrape greedily

At the clouds

Ploughing furrows

In the mind’s eye

The moment caught

In retrograde

Replayed

So many times

Sunlight is obscured

The sky is callous

Tasks are thankless

Old men with watery eyes

Cry quietly

Into a pocket

Full of broken fingers

Sticky with sugar

And the stain of jelly babies.