Huddersfield
4th Version
Soaked pebbles and tip toeing pedestrians lead to
Train stations, cold bricks and colder metal benches
standing in the platform
Smiling at beauty sometimes smiling back
I’d read Nietzsche and Kafka and God was dead I’d whisper
While looking at a goddess
And Wordsworth!
He didn’t like the trains
You know love can be love
If found while chewing on a pot noodle
with you on my lap because the bench was cold
I need no lakes, no beetles in bed
And my God is not dead
When your love was sat in my lap
On the other end I’d look at the fields and grin to the bike racks and the graffiti under the bridge
Skipping through the nettles and nodding at the firemen confused as to where I’d come from
And I’d grin my way home
