That Time

Chester’s clock
high overhead
timed us all
that day we walked
until we found
a cafe named for us
for me
for our son
and we loved
the mere shapes
of those sugar lumps.

Nearly twenty years on
we returned to find
time had turned itself
into a roasting pig
on the cold cobbles
outside the cathedral.

So we ate time
after time
and laughed
at the shape
of kohlrabi
in a cheap
aluminum pot
on a freezing night
waters and waves away.

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About janemwoodman

Singer, writer, restaurant reviewer, urban farmer, devoted lover of my husband....old and getting happier all the time.
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