The Walk

In the summer of 1950 June and Carter took a walking holiday in Southern England

They had three conversations



I saw a heroine from one of his books

Walking across a bleak moor

She was trying to protect herself

Against the bitter winds

I was sitting opposite you

Next to a warm fire

You were sleeping

And I was slowly overwhelmed

By your sense of guilt



The low harsh sun

Was dying in the hills

A number of hours earlier

You had predicted

Its demise



In the evening

After an engaging walk

You took a bath

Whilst I recorded this conversation

In my diary