Poems:              Wothorpe Wothorpe I must have walked up the second drift a thousand times, To that remarkable house, Of music, art, animals and conversation, What an effect they had on me, An expatriate American, Mr B welds an 8ft St George from scrap metal,  In a space between the hall and the kitchen,  Where the evening meal simmers, On the wall a sketch by Picasso of Mrs B and the infant Alex, Lars the giant Great Dane would turn knobs and let himself through doors, Flowers, pieces of sculpture, always music from somewhere, And always too, a beautiful girlfriend for Alex, When he'd put down his guitar, Marvellous people and tales, I heard a man claim at the dining room table, Of a child in Birmingham who levitated objects in a university laboratory, He'd seen this himself; we'd no reason to doubt, Mrs B put pigs and cows where the tennis court used to be, Bluebells and daffodils in the trees, Inspiration dripping from the walls, I walked up again and the house was empty, Save for a builder, He let me take a piece of the wallpaper, He said, 'A lot of people come like you.' Good luck to you all, Wherever you are now November 99       Poem index My Home Page