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Aftermath Of The Haworth Fair- Reflections of Branwell Bronte.

We parted much fortified,
as my friend disgorged
the contents of his stomach,
Coughing in fits,
he drank cold water from the trough.
It was his intention
to intercept the Halifax coach,
not broaching the matter
of money owed.
As for myself I could barely stand,
clothes hanging like a scarecrow's.
Along with others
i found the stone wall still warm
from late evening sun.
An agreeable assistant
as i stalled approaching home,
grateful there was no one at the gate
or in sight,
for now came the hours of their writing.
The first breath of night
spread beyond the moors,
darkening by the minute.
Though unsteady i increased my pace,
Eyes fixed upon The Parsonage and beyond
towards the shroud of night,
ending the day as i reached home.

12 Jul 18

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