August 18th, 2022Local Lines
Local Lines
It’s cold
Your bare knees
are not the worst
It’s the air on the back
of your legs
whistling
round your shorts
and the dead cold
of your pox-leather
covered toes
Morning recess
on the concrete courts
where no tennis is played
Edge past a frozen puddle
Your new schoolmates
have encircled someone
They take turns to mouth
unspoken words
to deaf Derek
hoping to see him adjust
his perfectly functioning
hearing aid
Derek’s stamping
on the ground has nothing
to do with cold
- Bill Wootton
Bill lives in Hepburn Springs where even in late winter it is still cold.
Local Lines comes mainly from a group of local poets but other submissions are always welcome. To have a poem considered for publication contact Bill Wootton at cottlesbreedge@gmail.com
