Arriving in this strangely familiar,
Yet unknown city. Children around me.
Relationships trailing behind, clanking
And trundling along on a rusty bike.
Looking for familiar landmarks, anything
To connect to or recognise. Wide river.
No bridges. There's something on
The other bank. Perhaps a church.
A gulf of distance to get there.
The pull of the past
Clanking along, clunk, clunk
Filling the road behind me.
Pulled forwards. Pulled backwards.
The pull of opposing directions.