Strawberries and Cream

We move into the spring bank holiday with sunshine. The smell of barbecue drifts garden to garden. I hang the washing out even though I know that my shirts will take on the smell of grilled chicken, beef burgers, smoke. A child is playing ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ on a violin. Pushing its weave into my back our rattan chair creaks.

the painted lady
on my arm flexes its wings
strawberries and cream

Paul Conneally

One thought on “Strawberries and Cream

  1. Pingback: Strawberries and Cream | Burn The Water | word pond

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