The piss-stench of horses
Whose shoulders twitch with inaction
Tethered nose to tail with carriages
In the shadow of lanky palms.
Trees which drop small berries
Different each time, from blood-black to white
The tradesmen here keep their wares in trees
Stashed in orifices, adjoining aortas.
Time passes slowly in the parks
The desperation of the carriage drivers
So different to the jovial banter on the square
Come on, they say, I will take you anywhere, very cheap.
Comments welcome, I don’t know what possessed me to post my earliest poem and one of my latest.