Normal exhausted out of time
A splurge on the back page Or the back of a dismissive hand
Tapestries gracing ancestral estates Welcome mats trimming our public park gates
An eggless raspberry bellied bake Twitcher fuel – Kitchen-side of the glass
The rubble bank is exactly that: a peculiar, linear, broken brick and excavated, relocated dirt mound at the top of our garden.
Christmas Eve trains track Figures gifting plastic poems Lines of Lego love.
The clocks had already circled backwards when I took shelter in the passageway beside the second hand book shop.