Sunday, February 17, 2008

A house I pass every morning No. 6


Small House

It was a small house surrounded by fields.
I'd pretend to eat sausages, drink imaginary tea.
One time a girl called Sophie came calling
and I practiced touching her knee.

I drove my tractor until all hours,
even ironed my own shirts.
Nothing seemed to come of it
though heaven knows I worked...

Bad days, I just sat indoors,
rain beating on the plastic roof above,
unhinged, aware of little more
than the need inside to be loved.

2 comments:

Lucy said...

I don't think I can stand the pathos of this...

Dave said...

I really like this. Very moving, and deftly executed.