For Paris


A blanket to warm you
Wasted loves and broken faiths
Hid in the doorway
Already they are gone
When they should have stayed
Who would steal such quickness –

All people are good, they share what they have
Bread and kindness –
Sometimes the river rises over their heads
And they are swept along.

My imaginary roses and trees
In the  cold dark soil
I lean heavily on my words
As a weary warden leans on her spade –
Trying to focus on each damp green shoot

Instead of

Each  crushing boot.

Veronica Aldous 2015 all rights reserved


About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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