It's one of those times -
I'm feeling like the cheese stands alone.
It's a Saturday afternoon -
We had planned to look
for a shared place to live,
but you're off in another direction.
I saw the foreboding storm cloud
last night
and then this morning
you told me
there would be no shared home.
Why didn't you tell me
stepping stone by stepping stone?
Why the sudden bomb
on my dream?
I'm left with soot all over me
from the bomb of your decision.
Flat bombed out land all around.
You have scampered off
to nibble green leaves.
I'm left with a hole
in my calendar
which once read
Saturday - "House hunt with Hugh
in Inverness".