Poem du jour

Great Western Road

I am like the kind of man you'll sometimes see out late at night
walking, head down, into the rain, no money left for the night bus home,
a little unsure where his next step will come from ... His only friend
the tiny dog who runs beside him, head down too, thinking, no doubt,
doggie thoughts which, were I to translate them, would be both sad and true.

Andrew Elliot