Neu! Boots Are Made For Walking DAY FORTY-TWO – Nicholas Murray


As I went out one morning,
when Autumn leaves were dry;
I found it hard to credit
the brilliance of the sky.

I looked into its blueness
and felt the warming sun
then turned towards the city
for my day had just begun.

I saw the slumped night-workers
asleep in crowded trains;
I saw the cocky bankers
as they plotted easy gains.

I saw a silent chippie,
with a toolbox and a saw;
among the posh commuters
his eyes were on the floor.

I read the morning headlines
on someone else’s Mail:
a TV chef was cheating
and Curry’s had a sale;

and in a distant war-zone
a hospital was razed;
I saw the children running,
their neighbourhood ablaze.

I left at Covent Garden,
the sun was still as bright;
and Europe’s offshore island
was tucked up nice and tight.



Nicholas Murray was born in Liverpool and now lives in Mid Wales. His most recent poetry collection is The Migrant Ship (Melos, 2016). He won the Basil Bunting Prize in 2015. Crossings: a journey through borders was recently published by Seren.

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