Sunset on the Wirral

The sky turns a slow orange  as birds drift with the Mersey out to sea.  A couple talk and watch the photographs. Smoke plays round the wind  escaping on the breeze. The sound of which echoes behind through the streets. With the landscape a mile away so drastically different, trees and churches across the water.  The air is still for a moment and the insects come alive.  Crawling up my hairs as the liner crawls along the water.  Three spots of cloud mar the otherwise unblemished sky.  Cobbles and stone against the water.  Near ten and the streets still overflow  the sky seems to have drawn them out,  sun artist painting the streets with people and painted as a skyline sky.  Even silhouettes fade as the sun recedes. The sky turns fast, blue Then black.  The moon dead ahead, After watching the sky turn a slow orange.

Elnick.

The smell of those trees reminds me of a childhood 

shared with the green and yellows of summer, 

through to the auburn halloween nights of fall. 

My walk falls pace by pace much faster than the last, 

rushing home, already forgetting those smells. 

Picture perfect i see smash cut images from my childhood, 

and of course i wish my self back there.

It seems so long ago, more than a decade since actually.

Now all i can think of is a reintroduction.

I need to walk that school corridor where i was dragged by my ear in hilarity,

and i must walk across those same fields and hills i did as a child. 

Hovering above my nostalgia i found a memory, one of which i am all to doubtful of its validity.

Great Trees lined either side, 

towering above and around me,

 toppling down to meet the ground and me. 

One long road stretches beyond us, my parents are leading me, I cannot see its end