the post mortem of the whether vane
i too ran from the bull !
(actually a cow)
and jumped the trout stream
the bank gave way
and i slithered into the stream
my wellies filling with slurry
that memory still chases me
and the laughter still flows
when i empty my wellies
pouring those times into
the jam jar of childhood
post mortem
i went back
it had all changed
unrecognisable is all i recognised
thank goodness i still have that jam jar
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