Salford

Heat remains, but the day
Is almost gone.  You can hear
The falsehood in the magpie’s
Tone.  A city sunset
Bleeds across the street
As you become aware
That something is wrong.
Something is very wrong.
It begins with a footfall,
A pad, pad, pad
Outside in the road
Which stops – and there is silence.

Silence in Salford?  This is not
The music we know, but rather
An unnerving, a waiting
For the normal screech and thud
Echoing through the neighbourhood.

Howard Osborn

If you've any comments on this poem, Howard Osborn would be pleased to hear from you.