Untitled 33

I remember a house

On the high road in Amesbury

Right at the top

By the roundabout.


The house had hollow windows

And no one cut the grass

But someone lived there.

Sometimes musty curtains

Blotted out the sun

And once I glimpsed a pale face

Darting past the drapes.


I wonder now

Whether they glimpsed back.

A funny boy I must have looked

All spiky hair and shiny shoes

Marching on to school.

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