Monday, 17 August 2015

Lost boot


When I called on you
I saw a Wellington boot
lying in the road.


A kid's Wellington
dropped from a passing push chair.
It was a fine day


with no chance of rain.
Later, when I left your house
the small boot was gone.


It was still sunny
but the wind had swung around.
I sometimes wonder


if there are signals,
small coded indications,
little messages


that I simply can't
decipher or understand.
Perhaps we're all like


lost boots in the street
waiting for our retrieval
when the wind swings round.



Published 8/10/15 on Clear Poetry
https://clearpoetry.wordpress.com/2015/10/08/marc-woodward-three-poems/