The Early Mornings

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The new job, the factory bus;
I saw him, then met him, unsure

The cold made me feel motherless
but to him, it was always fun
The widest smile on his beautiful face
We shared headphones one day;
David Bowie, China Girl

Cardiff winter mornings are made to remember;
The sun bends across the city, shy and proud
And the air of the streets has not yet been breathed and re-breathed
by cars and men and city dogs.

“Every street is an opportunity,” he said, like he had read it somewhere.
We talk; what home meant, cinema, the novelty of snow. My feet.
On a bus to a factory
He reminds me of a world outside
and of how every early morning is an opportunity, and how I need to
think more like I used to.
More like a girl and less like a mother.

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