Your hand in mine

Ten years ago I stood here

Looking out at the view

That hasn’t changed much since then.

The road from your house

Winding down toward the distant water meadows,

A patch of shadow against the strident neon lights

Of the sprawling supermarket that dominates the dark horizon.

Christmas bulbs flash and turn rainbow tricks

A trail of artificial light interrupting the pools of darkness

That gather underneath car chassis, kerb and manicured lawn.

In front of the house, a lamppost stretches its neck towards the star-shot sky,

The yellow pastel glow flickers slightly

Softened by the strands of spiderweb that are slung underneath the lamp.

Ten years ago I stood here and made choices that shaped me,

Tonight I make the same choice,

And reach out for your hand with mine.

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