She pushed her sholley -
We left my dad behind in his armchair, reading Tomorrow You Die -
The precinct was almost empty - Wilkos doors were closed -
It was a dark raw morning - my mum was wearing red woollen gloves -
You're a good walker I told my mum -
She flinched when cars went past, as if they were strange beasts -
Earlier she'd said - I can't find my words - I've lost them - they've gone -
I imagined her words, flying away from her -
A yellow feather was caught in her hair -
16.05
Sunday 17 January 2016
Havant
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