Tuesday 22 August 2017

Her name is now lost to me ...



The fragrance of cut grass, mowed after rain, gave voice to memory - 

I stood, with my white cap of years, under the August apples - 

I remembered sunbathing on a lawn in Putney, a leggy boy in a kindly garden - 

There were books and soft voices inside the house - 

Upstairs a young woman lay in her deep bath - 

Her name is now lost to me, but not the colour of her skin and hair -


15.55 
Tuesday 22 August 2017

The Old School House
East Stoke
Dorset

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