Monday, 17 August 2015

Lost boot

When I called on you
I saw a Wellington boot
lying in the road.

A kid's Wellington
dropped from a passing push chair.
It was a fine day

with no chance of rain.
Later, when I left your house
the small boot was gone.

It was still sunny
but the wind had swung around.
I sometimes wonder

if there are signals,
small coded indications,
little messages

that I simply can't
decipher or understand.
Perhaps we're all like

lost boots in the street
waiting for our retrieval
when the wind swings round.

Published 8/10/15 on Clear Poetry