Magic Lantern

Sometimes I find it impossible

to say exactly what I mean.

Remember those old magic lanterns?

The ones that made patterns on a screen?

They should tell the story on the wall.

I look towards the window,

and say,

that is not it,

at all.

That is not what I meant,

at all.




Thoughts on my
days at the back of my English class,
looking with adoration in my teenage eyes
at my English teacher,
who read to us from Ts Eliot.

Drinking
sneaky glass of wine

Eating
nowt

Listening to
James Morrison

Mood
Restful