Poem of the Day – Crushed Apron

Crushed Apron


Slim chance and slovenly dressed: she staggers in tatters

Flattened papers dancing in the light of the window.


Out to the basking sun.

Flesh shining

Dining out and burning winters white skin,

Pink blades scrape on barbed concrete kerb


Quietly crushed fragrance smothers

Another distraction:

An action to divide attention.

Mention the breeze; cool and fresh beating the confusion.


The place: crowds meet,

Sowing seeds of doubt

Gathering moss like rocks.


Best left alone: judgement seized with aplomb

Squeezed injunction:

A stool tipped to falling

Appalling resting place for the morning.


The death of thought and gesture

Crust and crumbs scattered on broken slabs of time


Sick of concern for others

Smothered in tired distress

Placid in tortured beliefs

Crushed whilst standing

Flowers fall on the shallow grave

A crow flies and sits on the waving tree

A spot of rain falls


April 2nd 2017

Patrick Turner-Lee Copyright


2 Replies to “Poem of the Day – Crushed Apron”

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