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  • ben--taylor0

Accomodate

Updated: Jul 27, 2021




Food house, watering hole, welcome Smiley smiles, rehearsed I reckon


The Highland hotel,

refurbished

Drawn, like moths,

to a light that switched


Chimney, castle, tower and fort Civilisation, so I thought


The white rooms, with black curtains Dusty carpets, of clan tartans


Straight cut, tapered, with white edges Lawn order, and bright green hedges


A lone hawthorn, twisting skyward Sparrows drop, to breadcrumbs scattered


Fenced off, bordered up,

the property

Square rooted,

in the land of He


Heavy tarmac, sinking its weight Heavy traffic, pushing it's fate


Sterile surface, plasticated Signs and warnings, laminated


Shiny, empty,

umbrellas sigh

Birds flutter

between roof and sky


The cigarette box

puff's the ends

Relishing

the message it sends


Even cut,

but forged in battle

No longer

a cage to rattle


The well groomed dog, pulling it's lead The cats judgements, so guaranteed


Plants in buckets,

food in a box

The new

out-of-order jukebox


A weathered bag, the ruffled look A sun-bleached stare, the eyes that duck


The noble flag droops, midges dance Jacket zipped, the hunched sitting stance


Sun hits the tiles, they crack and creak Distant hills blue, silent, they speak

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