Every Tuesday at 3.30pm they sit
on the only bench in the middle of the woods.
The motorway sings behind the trees,
dogs and their walkers float by
like clouds clearing the way for sunshine.
Most weeks they say nothing,
let the feel of their touching shoulders
do all of the talking. Today
she is readjusting his watch, perhaps
freezing time before life no longer needs them
to wear school uniforms with nowhere to be.

Carl Burkitt 2024