The Given Scarf

Patrick Arrowing

There were no dreams
of cocktail parties
even after her young
bones wrapped the given
scarf to keep a neck
from october.
Five minutes on
from the FREE BUTT,
lonely in Brighton's
newspapered streets
no coffee, tea
or fizzy can,
no chocolate treat
or doughnut delight
flavoured the spittle
of her mouth;
no plain biscuit or
white bread, no plea
to those who had
been gig-goers,
no hate, no home
no joy or recall
where playful child
uncovered possibilities
of a future
where music
of the waves
gave
a reason to
travel.

PATRICK ARROWING BOX 2437 COVENTRY CV6 2YE