Poem for lovers day – The first place in ‘75

fotocreditrobcullen

It was the first place we lived together

that white walled top floor flat

in an old Brighton town house.

It was a war zone of cold rooms and drafts.

we’d push newspapers rolled up and folded

into the cracks and gaps to block the blast

from the windows sash when the wind blew in

over the whipped-up roiling crazy white sea

gales that rattled windows and frames and doors.

From our bed on early December mornings

we’d watch a tower crane overhang the Kemptown

road with a Christmas tree sitting on its jib.

Those were mornings of clear skies

after the waves of the gale had receded

the gas fire’s flames flickering low, a mix of yellow and blue,

you played that scratched Baden Powell vinyl record

and the strains of the Samba Triste

filled the wooden floored rooms above Belvedere Road.

In the day we walked the sea front watching crashing waves

stir the shingle while fishermen hauled the keel boats

up through the pounding shore below the kids rides.

our love was fiery then.

….

©robcullen18012020

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