kate emily
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My stories
A Walk By The River Ure
After the assault on the old stone bridge, the river comes to quiet, pestering the banks; the skeletal roots of trees. The trout are not returned, no fishermen wade in the peat-brown waters,
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- 780 reads
Old Notes Found
It occurs to you, as you look up at the windows; tired, untidy curtains, too tired to hold in the light, that there are too many people.
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- 463 reads
And This Is Why, Dad, You Are The Best Footballer In The World.
My favourite game - when you'd kick the football from our garden, over the house and into the lane. I'd watch you, ready as a cheetah, for your toes to connect with
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- 623 reads
Today I Heard Them
The little birds are home again- chipping away at the ends of Winter, whistling the beginnings of Spring.
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- 348 reads
Canal side conversation
You coot carrier, fish keeper, bike sinker reflection tricker, you're a circus mirror a loose corrugation, tongue of water, punctuated by swans' necks; question marks, floating
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- 424 reads