Sunday, 1 May 2011

Sackville Gardens

This is a short poem I wrote the other day while basking in this unusual sunshine in Manchester. Sackville Gardens, for non-locals, is on the edge of the Village and is always full of gay men.

Sackville Gardens

Beneath the boughs, clusters of lovers and friends,
bunched like blossoms
along a slender spring branch
crested with watercolour pinks, whites, blues.
The steady chatter of companions,
the delicate birdsong clatter,
of the fruiting loom
of community. The perfume,
gentle, a colophon
of unity through diversity,
of colour between
strokes of light and shade.

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