Written by Rosie Allabarton on Monday the 3rd of December 2012
My hair was a crown and
I was a horse
as you walked past the house
and I galloped across the road.
Hooves against glass
I peered through the café window, only
to see us eating eggs
in the dark;
our smiles glowing over coffee,
butter that I thought was cheese and
across the years
that have passed.
It was silent inside and
I snorted. The chairs were stacked high
on the tables that were islands
and menus fluttered like leaves
to the freshly washed floor.