it is afterwards and you talk on tiptoe happy to be part of the darkness lips becoming limp a prelude to tiredness. Comeclose and Sleepnow for in the morning when a policeman disguised as the sun creeps into the room and your mother disguised as birds calls from the trees you will put on a dress of guilt and shoes of broken high ideals and refusing coffee run alltheway h o m e Poem by Roger McGough
Finally, came across something in my English Language module i enjoyed. Hope you all like it!
no, not 'had' in that sense. cant remember his first name though. maybe he's THE roger mcgough. or perhaps i recognise it because one of his poems was in my gcse lit anthology. perhaps we'll never know.
