It’s the middle of the night, well wee early hours – 4 or 5.
Beautiful late May, nearly dawn, birds waking up
Even the milkman hasn’t arrived.
This time of year sometimes think about then.
When you all were still there and I had left, i passed through Bath
in the early hours of the morning – early June, on a train.
It looked so magical and misty … then the train shuffled on to London.
I felt so sad.
I have found it impossible to go back there since.