Friday, 22 February 2013


looking down from my eyrie
under a moody grey sky
nothing is black and white
criss-crossing paths weave a confusing pattern
irregular triangles and polygons
hasty decisions on a tired architect's drawing board
shuttling denizens navigate these arteries
as february bites
they hurry and scurry
past empty benches
their plaques unread
how i got here i don't know
tall poplars punctuate red brick and neoclassical curves
a mermaid flounders
stranded high and dry on the library frontage
inside the dust falls and gathers
across the square
revolving doors spill out puddles of arts undergrads
like me
on their way to somewhere else

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