Shades of Blue
I christened him ‘Blue’, the man
with the Tesco carrier-bags,
who occupied the same park-bench,
day on day, who’d always nod
when I’d smile, ‘Hello’. Jacket –
miles too big, anchored at the waist
with a length of string, as autumn
turned to winter, turned to spring.
Woollen gloves with fingers
too long for him, flicked busily,
as he whittled scraps of wood.
Got to wondering what he made –
head down; only glancing up
to shake a fist at the pigeons
when they ‘rained’ on him
amidst the starry, maple shade.
On holiday in Bognor,
thoughts of him seduce me.
There I was – one wife, three kids
and a dog in a caravan...yet
when next I passed his way,
he’d moved on – no forwarding
address. Just a bench, freshly
painted a deeper shade of blue;
on the grass, a peg – handcrafted;
straight and true.