Taith Araf
Cais Archif Oriel
Steve Coel
Dead Air into Warm Harp.
Steve Coel
Since I bust my legs down The Works I's had
to spend all my mornings blowing dead air
into warm harp by the old library.
Bust my heart too, truth be known.
Lost everything now I has.
Still; once I's got enough coin I has a mild
and Clark's pie down The Vulcan.
And; often or not, I ends up chatting to the old girls,
warming themselves up, before they goes and shelters
under the bridge down by The Glastonbury.
Clink Hotel across the road gets noisy in the afternoon
so I wanders back into town for a bit of a stretch
and goes cadge a cup of tea from Astey's before heading
back down Bute to the Sally for warm meal and early bunk.
Doesn't have time to feel sad really. Not me.
Trick, I finds, is to forget past and just stick
to what I knows.
Needs change of shoes though mind.
I'll find some in box by door in the morning.
[ Draft 3 ]
Microflashfiction
Steve Coel
An 11.59 Publication
