By the Canal
Curious by the sound of sighs; was that the only
reason why? I searched, stumbling through chest high
weeds that flourished in stony ground. Pausing by
oil-stained, sun-shafted water, anxious for a look, a
sight, or just a glimpse of tormenting sound.
He lay quite still and fast asleep; snoring rasped
through yellow teeth. A dog and dirty mac lay by his
side. Not knowing what else to do or say I placed a
pound on his coat and, after falling over an old
pram, turned and tip-toed noisily away.
Copyright (c) Chris Gallagher