Saturday, October 06, 2012

open windows
on a summer's day
the only words
I've heard my neighbour speak
'You've never loved me'

Blithe Spirit Vol.21 No.4 December 2011


Matthew Paul said...

Hello Alison,

It's odd what you can overhear sometimes. I suppose some folk reach a point - a 'tipping-point' - at which they no longer care who eavesdrops. Nicely done.

All the best,


Alan Summers said...

People forget how sound carries. My own vocal register will carry quite a long distance, sometimes embarressing, sometimes useful.

This poem has that odd mix of humour and poignancy, sadness, and an "unsettlingness."

How did they survive Christmas and the New Year I wonder?

Wonderfully memorable poem.