Rob Galpin

I've been waiting
to find my way back

I cannot be the same person
who watched the pine
and oak woods age

getting here
I passed through
blackthorn like mist

I do not mean
I became the mist

in the café
the girl is slowly
sweeping the floor

the way back
will be the test of it

the blackthorn
the red mass of haws

and the rain
its black towers
over the lake