Chimney Grass

Kristiana Reed, listen to her read it; magical

My Screaming Twenties

I like listening to the rain

and watching the warm street lamp glow

melt into the window frame.

Sometimes I hear footsteps too,

the distant rumble of traffic

and the echoes of birds.

I can see the chimney of my neighbour’s house

and I can see a magpie or pigeon

(they visit most frequently)

has dropped some grass seed.

Thin fingers of grass sprout

from the breast, bending

and waving in the wind.

It makes me smile

in this quietly interrupted silence;

that there is a lone patch of grass

so high in the sky.

It will never be cut or tended to,

there isn’t room for a no ball games sign;

it must only be a few inches wide.

I wonder if it will ever grow so long

it emerges from the chimney

like a green Mr Tickle

reaching for the ground.

I hope for its sake it doesn’t

View original post 80 more words

One thought on “Chimney Grass

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s