Stuart Miller-Osborne

The ministers of etiquette are waiting on my porch I am wandering around wearing only a vest You are I suppose wondering who I am What is my name Is it Angel A or Angela Is my name Frank or Dave Am I scratching my butt The door is open please come in There is […]

My younger sister Amaryllis I can see her In the memory Of every flower

My red roses are still beautiful Although they in time will fade

I found an olive Hidden in its tree It was a late But welcome visitor

Angel A and Micheal Were strolling arm in arm Along a narrow cobbled lane They were due to be married In a matter of hours

From the main window Of our hotel bedroom We could see the great cathedral Angel A was my fellow pilgrim

I was enjoying a coffee Outside a small cafe In a narrow cobbled lane Which was overlooked By a great cathedral

You lived on an island In the middle of a great river

The city although overlooked By threatening clouds Was at peace with itself The narrow lanes hummed To the music of its visitors Yet the air was slowly cooling Days were shorter Autumn was not far away

As my bus travelled towards the pilgrims city I witnessed the laziness of a thousand bonfires