Overlooked Jewels
overlooked jewels
the car breaks down.
wrong place, wrong time
but then it always is.
have to catch a bus.
stand waiting, next to a rundown pub.
cold black railings
fencing off the world
guarding its secrets
am ominous vision of childhood.
and men idling at the bars,
the sickly smell of hops drifting
from the bars as the peripatetic
patrons spill in and out.
the unkempt gardens
are littered with,
fag packets and used johnnys,
broken bottles and corporate cans,
vying in the filthy space,
with intertwined bluebells,
and marigolds,
inevitably losing their identity,
as the wild flowers march on,
day by day.
an old lady hobbles to the bus stop.
and I smile and say hello.
“Just admiring the beauty of nature”
she looks at me hesitatingly,
glancing at the swathes of rubbish
and then a smile lights her face,
as she turns,
“Oh bluebells, happy childhood memories”
the bus arrives and the doors sweep open.
but for a second we are both lost in overlooked jewels
