The Girton Poetry Group

Not Averse

HOW CAN I TELL YOU WHAT IT FEELS LIKE
TO BE HERE IN THIS PLACE

black

frost

black

sky

wet stones

skittering onto the

drain cover

 

above us

white stars pierce

the sky

below us

the dark grass mops our toes

 

the cold air stings my lips

i have a strong urge to tell you how it feels to be standing here

but it’s warm inside  

 

  so we leave