Leeds

I was a collapsed barn
All you saw were the wisps of bent hay
Floating around my temples
making it hard to see

My patient eyeballs turned
that summer, sulking afternoon
While sentimental gossips poked them back ahead

Exacting straws, pointing and deliberate
From another point of view, it all looked soft.

Crickets are another man's silence
The barn boards have old nails in them, so put your shoes on
The treasure is only plastic from the seventies
The emerald is only a wet stone