Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

I took a walk to Consett early evening with a card for my eldest sister. The lights and television were on but despite three knocks there was no answer. It’s her birthday tomorrow and tm out elsewhere and it’s a while since I last spoke to Dawn. The chocolates just say made it through the slot without the gold bow ribbon coming off. Maybe she was taking a bath. Or fallen asleep after a hard shift.

The wind is that icy one that cuts your cheeks in half. These are the nights when the streetlights send spangles straight into my eyes and although I like to wrap up tight, it’s good to feel the full force of the freezing gust against my aching body as I cut through the darkness, now with hours on my hands and nowhere I need necessarily be.

I thought about the strangers I was studying this morning in the supermarket; I saw the girl of my dreams from way back in my teens and although I know she would have smiled and said Hello I decided not to bother her and carried on with my exercise for this morning’s drama.

I thought about the strangers as I walked back from my sister’s door to a town totally empty. The Christmas displays in Woolworths had startled me earlier, the weeks now flying by, and colder. Passing Argos on late shopping night I wondered what this year’s festive season will be like. For some strange reason I carried on to the station and just in time for my bus. Riding home I zoned on out. And when I got off it was lashing with rain. 7.35 pm.