Pages – Sunday November 10th 1996


heather creeps into my toes
my joints move like slow motion
nobody understands the isolation
and how it grows
with thoughtful memories
that slave us to a past
we often still live
heathers grows and grows
on and on it always goes
life is like a book
it can all be read at once
each page turned and turned
by some god like finger
but some things are heard learnt
and sometimes you may find a chapter
and choose to linger
my body subcomes to isolation
life life on the moors
my mind is poetic justice
and a place of doors
pages like parchment
and stained with ink
that acts like a guide
to the way we think

There are more poems at

James Garratt – Sunday 10th November 1996

I am a 40 something sometime writer. I live in the South West of the UK but originally I am from Essex.

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