A Little Less to Cut I know where I will lie, Down where the hawthorn and the blackthorn Hide the water and the sea, And keep the goats at bay. I may not know how many times I’ll cut the grass and trim back the hedge. Every year a little less to cut, Another patch to weave the mower round, Another friend of mine, named in stone Another face who knew me as a kid. They all wait for me, and to them I’ll always be the kid, and always was. I know where I will lie. Part of the village memory. A name. A place, ordered in a record book. ‘Wasn’t he the poet?’ That’s what’s left of me.
Edward Alport is a retired teacher and proud Essex Boy. He occupies his time as a poet, gardener and writer for children. He has had poetry, stories and articles published in a variety of webzines and magazines. He sometimes posts snarky micropoems on Twitter as @cross_mouse.
Amethyst Review 