• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 06


The little folk are leaving
planting footprint     on everything –
they’re walking up walls
across my art     tip-toeing around the ceiling
following artex patterns.
It’s fine. I like it; am trailing after them
with spray varnish to prove it
if a need arises but it won’t because no one
believes. They’ll think I’ve gone   way
over the top      slipped down the pipe.
I appreciate the Farewell – it’s very personal
which is why I won’t say a thing to anyone.
They must’ve had a ball all last night
in my living room and hall – my bedroom
is left virgin as comparison
perhaps they recognized naked walls
that I didn’t want to be distracted while
persuading sleep to come.
The rest of the house sparkles
in sudden flashes of colour – you can see their toes
printed… flurries of dots
to match my mood this morning.
Outside people are running a marathon:
inside I’m tripping to Irish fiddles and bluegrass jazz,
windows open     keeping me alive     in the moment,
muslin curtains wafting,
making the day spin in anticipation
of new ventures and tantalising risk.
Though I worry the garden will be lonely.