The Way

Rest your nose 
on the pillowy scent of jasmine,
follow it down that latticed corridor
to the base of the brushbox tree
and the gloaming under-sphere
of the cottoneaster bush.  

On your right, feel gently 
the sand stone of the creamery wall
rough and tawny as laughter.
Remember the summer nights

gritty concrete on bare toes,
as you pattered here from the kitchen’s
linoleum dark, warm as sat-on velvet, 
and into the spray-cool breath of starlight.

You pulled at your pyjama pants
mussed and dopey 
to the soft burp of frogs
communing in the outside toilet.

Written for Laura’s dVerse Poetics (write about a memory)

12 thoughts on “The Way

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