Poem for National Poetry Day

What’s the point?

Where’s the essence
of all that we held
Just as we stood on the balcony
watching the kestrel, wings going
body stopping
eye sharp watching
and then
drop…

Blue in black, clothes as a backdrop
Stop what you can
drop whilst you can

…and that’s the point
taking the essence of 28 years
to place each moment,
each movement
and it’s all sliding away.
Death around the street corner
closer now, than everything.
So alive.
In the moment.
Stop and go.
First in show!