Rainy Days

What streets have seen more tears? More grief than the cobbled streets of Manchester My heart was once a flower meadow. But now the prettiest, littlest thing that grows In between the cracks are purple-blue Milkwort's otherwise known as snakeroots; this is how Our paths cross and combine until the way is lost. Jostling for space for sunlight overshadowing others more shrivelled-out and trampled-upon. We appear from our cracks like fat, wriggling earthworms. sensing a virginal world is unfolding, But then along comes a blackbird. Or a red robin and all our sunshine, rainy days and tears are gone.