An End

An End

Iced black summer clouds,

grizzled as a hangman’s beard

mesh, thicken and kiss grey

above a newsprint magpie

circling, scrapping with drizzle

in a flash of unreadable blurb.

Across our hoary park is heard

a party of 3 approaching.

The breach breeze stiffens,

whipping willows and birch

beside a peeling green bench.

Boy, ahead of sister, carelessly

running towards the open pitch,

holding his football like a loose cannon

rear glance just once before

he kicks to catch the wind.

Girl, older, almost woman herself

looks back, smiles and her eyes

dot dash a morse code before

she flights to the empty carousel.

Mother checks that all is well,

casts quickly into her leather clutch,

reels in a vanity mirror and tests,

moistening a finger with tongue tip

to smooth brows and hair flicks,

feels still almost young herself

as the man now breaks cover.

In an off the shoulder black vest,

the usual tattoos adorn his chest,

steels himself and takes a breath.

They embrace and almost kiss

but a last minute feint for cheeks

as though they could be French

then on the bench. A serious look,

half laughs, but whatever words

are blown skywards, can’t be heard,

are lost above to the wheeling bird.

Presently both rise and his hand

touches shoulder, somehow older,

now we can all taste light rain falling.

Both stride; he could take her hand

and she might not resist fingers

so near. At the carousel they now linger

where recumbent girl, slowly spinning,

sees them strobe, strobe and grinning.