Mike Bell/ February 13, 2016/ www.mikebellpoems.com/ 0 comments

Disintegration developed
on common estates,
Funded by corporal,
spatial, distastes.

To relieve us, mere-public,
of rights of way,
To put in place sponsored,

No slight-reference
to old share of lands,
A Digger would bury
his face in his hands.

Return me the right
to wander across,
The Fields of London,
without a toss.

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