My Outside Waterloo.
I had to walk from my ill hung back door thru an uneven yard
The vine upon the crumbling brick wall was trained to grow in
From the neighbour’s well kept flower-bed.
When leafed...it was a thing of beauty ...in winter...long brown tentacles hung down
Waiting for the sun to lift it’s winter brow ...warm us again.
The Mile End traffic howled beyond the falling wall
...reaching in from every side
Black noise...Tar dust in the nose
And then I reached the outside Waterloo...
Sat down on that old wooden seat placed on the throne
Rimbaud ...or even Charlie Brown as my companion read
Depending on my mood. My attitude.
Sometimes snow was on the ground...often it rained
But it was never bad...it was a hardy thing that I enjoyed..
And when I built that room into the house...
It never was the same again.
Kristine Byrne
10th Feb 2012