Brendon Hill

 

 

Do you remember the flat in Pinner?

We locked the door

And turned it into Brendon Hill.

 

Making love on the floor.

Outside, the rain fell,

Pattering onto the small sash windows.

But we didn’t hear.

We only heard the pattering of the gas fire

And each other, breathing, laughing,

As we lay on the grass of summer.