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Guernsey Arts

Carole Bromley, York

Poems on the Buses Exhibition

You were always fashionably late.
The light fell differently then,
the leaves outside trembled,
the house was coffee-scented,
the clock cleared its throat.

Sometimes, crossing the hall,
I think of the way everything fluttered
when I opened the door to you,
like hens fussing to settle again
on warm brown eggs.