Poem: Wendy From Feilding

I was playing a gig in Feilding. Nothing wrong with that, though nothing great about it either. When, a woman, a regular whenever we play, comes over for a chat. She seems to know most of the band – and now – apparently, knows me (I’ve never talked to her before). “Simon”, she says, “I hear you write poetry?”

“Yes, and stories too, Wendy”.

(I had borrowed…