(for K)

This morning was good for me,
but not you,

my walking in to our town,
November-crisp and a clear blue sky with sun shining,

passing by that one other thing
you wanted to see on this visit –

too late now with your boarding the long flight back home
as I write –

such an enormous new-build of older people’s apartments
to dwarf the thatched restaurant by its side and

those houses directly opposite the stream,
their years of a beautiful view you’ll once have seen

also completely destroyed,
walls of red brick never to be pretty like the

fallen autumn leaves on that footbridge
over the river as I returned home,

so many still fresh, if pastel, and the few
vibrant orange

or as I still see this
wonderful colour.