Blackheath

[penneddown]

Blackheath village where
socialists paint rainbows on pavements
and sirens bleed into the watery night,
homing pigeons to the centre.
Coffee is unprecedented and
almond croissants are walking home
to mothers and avocado chalked lips,
high chairs dirty with repetition.

Every day it’s Wednesday
and Hugo is flying a kite on the heath,
his fingers spinning freedom to daytime
bats.
His sister singing her first word
“yellow”.
Congratulations collected on zoom
Like spare change.

Mama buys paintbrushes and blues
the walls.
Hugo blows bubbles
that float
dandelion feathers,
a hand clasped around dreams.

[penneddown]

Thanks Jagged Edge! I have made some corrections! Lazy grammar on my part. Appreciate the feedback

[penneddown]

Nope! I did a creative writing degree ?. Have only started writing again recently after a bit of a hiatus though