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Along The Bank
A poem by Rosemary Appleton
It’s the coming back that’s important, she knows
as she presses her way through the cow parsley,
seems to choose a path, though locally
they all lead this way, in the end: to a building,
seeming in the light to rise celestial, still,
and she never can see, over the water,
the ground where its walls’ feet stand. As the flowers
turn their high, white pepper faces to the sun
and the heat bakes and frees the pollen
she is silent, just a girl, heading home.
Rosemary Appleton writes in the wilds of East Anglia, fuelled by coffee. Her work has been published in Mslexia, Fenland Poetry, Quince and elsewhere.
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