Missing Smiles. By Nick Gerrard

I miss the morning rush with trains delayed, traffic jammed, tube lines crushed

I miss the crowded car parks with no space for me

I miss the factory hooter that sounds the time for tea

I miss the colours and groans and roars when we score.

I miss the grumpy husband dragged round a garden centre.

I miss the cheers of the pub as I gladly enter. 

I miss my place by the window of the cafe, no cappuccino to sip no people to survey

I miss the children in gangs on corner streets and cool record shops pumping out beats

I miss the guy in the market shouting about his fish, I miss restaurants bringing my dish

I miss the curry house , the Chinese, after kicking out

I miss the races, the dances, the local fete.

The miserable gezzer on the tube and the one with the smelly feet.

I miss the people in our streets, they were made to be lived in.

I miss the bussle of a market, the snugness of a bar, I miss a good morning on a field path from a man with a dog from afar.

But what I miss most in our world of masked faces is seeing people smile and looking for signs of life’s ups and downs in the lines and traces. 

Originally from Birmingham but now living in Olomouc where he writes, proof-reads and edits, and in between looking after his son Joe, edits and designs Jotters United Lit-zine.

Nick has been at one time or another a Chef, activist, union organiser, 

punk rocker, teacher, traveller and Eco-lodge owner in Malawi and Czech.

Short stories, flash and poetry have appeared in various magazines in print and online including Etherbooks, Roadside fiction, The Siren, Minor Literature and Bluehour magazine

Nick has three books published available on Amazon

twitter@nickcgerrard