Willowmead Road Poem by Ian Bowen

The hard concrete of Willowmead Road
sweeps to the left and then bends
as far as Willowmead Close.
A blue car stands outside of
number 23, still warm
from its journey to the shops
and back again. Behind
the kitchen blinds, Dorothy
packs the food cupboards
to capacity. His favourite dishes
will be lovingly concocted
from todays purchases.

In the morning the blue car
will be seen parked
at the Air Force base,
where she will meet
her husband, home from
a long spell in some futile war.

Willowmead Road
sweeps to the left and then bends
as far as Willowmead Close.