Mark Heathcote (22/03/66 / Manchester)
His heart blazes with shadows
Running and skipping …
Down a dark lane, foreboding,
In as much as there were - so
Many, walls with locked doors.
Here-there! He looked for openings …
“Into one of those flower gardens”
But then he spots a golden bee …
Who seems as dizzy as can be?
Even more drunk than he
But this hapless bee doesn’t wait.
And was the first of many shadows
He’s seen passing through …
Taht keyhole - unopened gate!
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