Liz Parkes lives in Stourbridge West Mids. She has retired from teaching full time to write and live a little! She writes short stories for a group blog, plays and poetry. She has had work published by Offa’s Press and Cannon’s Mouth.
On Monday, in Leek Girl’s High
‘I saw you up Mow Cop,’ she said,
‘with a lad.’
Across a bowl of washed out sky, suds of clouds float,
coalesce below the tail of a high flying jet
and brief shadows sweep the Cheshire plain.
Brown waves of bracken break against the folly walls
and Autumn turns the greens to fire and flame.
My glad, rough boy, his arms around me, pillion tight,
purrs like a Harley, hot smut in my ear.
And I’m alive, molten as a Dali clock.
‘Sorry, not been there, Miss,’ I said,
but I should add,
I wish I had.
Poem published in The Poetry of Staffordshire., Offa’s Press
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