Within the first few seconds since the door
clicked shut to confirm that we were outside—
the three of us, making a break, together—

the first drops fell, splat fat and finger wide,
but after a week inside the dark flat
our outbound urge was not to be denied

and so, with brolly up and pushchair wrapped
we pushed of, the front wheel become the prow
of our ship as our little princess napped

as the four walled echoes became a slough
of tap tap taps and swishing hatchback tires
and pavements were washed squeaky for our tour

past swanky homes that would never be ours.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    May 13, 2012 @ 09:26:31

    I’m supposed to be writing a Spanish essay…that is why I’m reading this poem.

    I liked, “the first drops fell, splat fat and finger wide” this set the scene for me.
    Little princess??? sounds like suburban dad syndrome.


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