Twitten | June 15, 2017

Between nestled buildings in brotherly bunches
Or carefully inserted twixt high walls or hedges,
A narrow path stretches its worn way, and hunches
Some opposite walkers who sidle like wedges
And pass one another while greeting “Good day!”,
On a trodden route Sussex folk rarely see written
But sometimes pronounce as this word they will say,
A word seeming squeezed to this corner of Britain,



Posted in Poetry
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