A Long Way North

It’s not yet spring, still it’s cold and grey.
I spent a lazy Sunday afternoon MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA
Before a warming fire on a granite hearth
In a long white house, far from
The place you called home.

I left you behind, a long way north,
But once I saw you here
Long after you were gone
In sloppy cardigan, slippers, book in hand.
You turned and smiled at me,
That smile, that well-remembered smile.

Do you like this place?
And me? Do you like what I’ve become?
The child you taught to read and play,
Who grew, and learnt and moved away
From that sheltering home a long way north.

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About scribblingadvocate

Born in Lancashire, Law degree from Sheffield University and MA in Creative Writing from Exeter. A barrister for twenty five years, who appeared in the Crown Courts in and around London until I retired and moved to live on Dartmoor. Married, no children but own an affable Springer Spaniel. I love reading and have written a novel called Crucial Evidence set in London Legal

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