The western front

[Jerrybaldy]

Her breasts were small and perfect
A plane was flying between the rooftops
Wasps were swarming the heather
I was eating a cucumber sandwich
A tartan rug was on the lawn
I heard a bycycle bell ring
It was a Sunday I was full of dread
The fridge was broken
The milk had curdled
Dried up worms were crisping
in the hallway
I told my father I loved him
As any son should
Before he dies.
I told myself
That everything was good.

[kiz_paws]

Very cool poem.
The line about the worms was really good.
Glad that you continue to post here, despite feedback; your work always intrigues me.