The Smell of Meldew

Familiar sounds echo in my


Repeat, repeat in my


The fundamentals tugging

on a piece of string


Pulling in opposite directions

Then, thoughts go walkabout

in the city park

Through the side gate

they slip in

The smell of mildew

slaps my face

Rotten leaves decomposing

Trees nude, still standing

Though some have had their fingers


A weather warning….

limbs still scattered

A blackbird stabs the earth

A daily morsel

Between his beak

Today he is young

Nothing else is…. as important


Paolo Michell




About pmisteil

Hi, my name is Paul though I write under other names like, Thatcher and Paolo, I love literature, art and architecture their passion and drama....the contradictions. The notion of Truth-who is the person behind the mask? Or does it matter! I like long walks and longer conversations over cappuccinos in a cafe with atmosphere and the rest is a journey!
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