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I missed you in the night, we met on the landing, touched. My feet found no response no warmth, no breath, no sound. I’m cold. Love is old.
When I hear people say “Jew” in that special voice and I say nothing so laying the foundation for another pogrom;
when I see surprise in their eyes on hearing I’m a Semite, born in Berlin fled… you know who it’s because they see that which I’ve hidden.
Before the Nazis existed I didn’t know I was different. Lay the blame on my mama, papa they didn’t teach me how to be an outcast.
I saw a Grayling butterfly Among the empty cans But long ago Before they sprayed I saw hundreds of Meadow Brown Like water shimmering You never see that now.
I dropped a peach stone On the Dales Near rocks On which we sat.
Soft luscious fruit Hard stone May grow On Yorkshire soil.
If sprays allow A hundred years from now Maybe There’ll be a tree.
It spews out wrong messages there must be a fault somewhere. When the menu is displayed it directs to press ‘enter’ then cries out showing its displeasure. I forget our arranged date Blame my non-recorded message although it was you who had changed our original plan. I’m in overdrive, waiting for signals but select ‘edit’ fails to instruct. Cannot enter a faulty filofax delete, stop creating......
Life used to be easier when we carried messages walked in all weathers with apologies over cups of tea. Nowadays, confusion reigns. and when the command reads abandon print... bleep... bleep lost in limbo We’re left with the options CUT...CANCEL....EXIT.
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