A fragment -------------------------------------------
By the back of the park
Where the trains go
On the wall of the canal
The scratch of rough concrete
Is clearing the path of swans
Like so much magic marker
Their lively windswept reds and yellows
Brighten along the grassy hill.
Cold hands hold tight to the edge of a slide
Slowing to a crawl they slump at the bottom
Meaty rubber tyres go back and forth
Borne up by Winter chains impervious to my nails.
My duffle jackets getting static shocks.
The familiar walk winding upward past
Sad imaginings lurking in shadowy bushes;
Those who live over withered railings
Where they leave their empty bottles of lucozade
Whose labels have lost their luster in the orange glow.
The man who lived downstairs has gone away;
No longer will he walk up the path with me.
My friend is waiting by the corner shop,
But she is older now and will not remember me.
You did a really great job with your description. I got a "fragment" of a visual mixed with a feeling of nostalgia cast by your tone, and by the end of the piece it concluded in a very lovely manner. I like this a lot and I see as I am reading a few of your pieces I look forward to more of your work. It is not the same piece over and over, you have such sensitivity and vulnerability consistent from piece to piece but the format and subject change like the next anticipates event in a narrative. I like where you go as a writer with your own voice, from the heart.
Submission Name: A fragment
