Closed

When I leave a room
I close the door.
I don't bother thinking
about what's in there
any more.

I shut this door.
Lock it, of course,
and take a stroll
round the grounds
for divorce.

The grounds are extensive.
But it's a sunny day.
I chuck the key into a patch
of nettles
and walk away.


Grounds For Divorce

Poem copyright Bernard Young 2011