Writer

Roger Higgins

Friendly Street Poets,South Australia

GONE

12


Then,
a few minutes ago,
when I turned my back,
I was leaving.
But I am not leaving any more,

I’m gone.

I pull along a bag with little black wheels
that click over the paving stones.
The sound is an audio-guide
To the country of Me.

I have already arrived
and it is quite lovely here.
There is strong light,
they are alleyways to explore.

Too many turns in the same direction,
I could be back where I started.
So I am careful about that,
follow my own compass,
listen to the rhythm of the clicks.