dear england,
i too love
your drizzly rain, not
a full asian thunderstorm
yet enough to stall
society
your country walks and vast plains
the ones i’ve never got
the right shoes for
i love your
train journeys
and the soft hum of the engine
soft conversations blocked out by earphones
my own reflection in the mirror
toys strewn in the backyard
soft curtains in conservatories
purple soil from my window
sheep resting under a tree
i pass obscurities
like rugby, crewe and wem
skater boys and country mansions
camper vans and silky black cows
ponies, barges and dirt bike racing
the modern country life.
ironbridge the birthplace of industry
the national past time
north farm in eaton mascott
george, not elizabeth
a proper shropshire walk
autumn leaves by the river severn
Wan Phing Lim 