Pakefield Pirates

The pirate flag 

Calls me over
Invites me to walk on in to an old railway carriage
and help myself to coffee and cakes
Served in beer kegs and arranged in treasure chest baskets
I hurry on up the lane, to the corner plot
A station sign offers up to the visitor
Welcoming strangers, pulling them through the crossing gates and into a garden of cottage flowers
A signal tries to warn me
I offer up my thirsty smile
A place to sit a while and compose a poem
Two pairs of aged and fearsome eyes frown me down
A caravan
A mock-up
An ancient couple enjoying tea together in a summer-house bowl.
A taunt.

Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

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