Inspired by a visit to Wroxeter, home to some of my ancestors, in Shropshire (August 2018), and composed in a Prado Lounge Café Bar in Suffolk.
 |
Box Pews at a church in Selattyn, Shropshire |
Doors click open.
Let me in and
latch me in,
keeping me
seated.
Listening.
The Vicar steps up,
announces himself,
boxes himself in and
shouts
The Word –
His Word.
I listen
to myself –
thoughts
bouncing back
at me from
varnished wood.
Dead trees –
now breathing.
Copyright of text and photograph owned by Jay Cool, September 2018
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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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