The rocks of millstone grit
Take us
back a million years.
But now
they're as frozen as they ever were.
Their
fleshy, hard surfaces
Can't stop
the chiseling of lovers’ names
And misspelled obscenities.
I touched
the sparkling sandstone
As I’d
touch an old man’s face –
Curious as
to the feel of his skin;
But
respectful, of course.
And peeped in the mini-caves
Which thrill curious kids.
Polluting one cave
Was the night-before’s leftovers.
Lager, cider and crisps (now empty cans and bags)
Had been enough for this Teen Party
And for all those young bodies -
Hyper and still budding.
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