Most Things May Never Happen: This One

I'd Like To Think...that People In Pubs Would Talk About My Poems

I Have Started To Say "a Quarter Of A Century" Or "thirty Years Back" About My Own Life.

Things Are Tougher Than We Are, Just As Earth Will Always Respond However We Mess It About.

My Mother, Who Hates Thunderstorms, Holds Up Each Summer Day And Shakes It Out Suspiciously, Lest Swarms Of Grape-dark Clouds Are Lurking There.

Death: The Anaesthetic From Which None Come Round.