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This and That

A poem from last night's Open MIc


This and That


The wind rises and falls,

strengthens then drops away.

Washing on the line sways,

lifts, billows. The bed sheet flaps

and slaps itself, happy.

The sun disappears, and then re-appears.

The coffee is a rich deep brown in the cup.

Flower buds are forming, a profound pulse

forcing a dream of bloom through the stem.

A towel, brown as my coffee, dances on the line,

swirling its skirt at the nonchalant sheet.


Somewhere, unseen, a family has no food to eat,

a state servant tortures a jailed dissident

and a woman lies dying on a dirty street.



© Dave Urwin 2020

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