Rupert Loydell writes

THE END OF THE MATTER

On Sundays we park where 
yellow lines don’t count
and walk across into town.

Spring arrived and then went again,
making way for wind and rain;
I spent an afternoon in my studio,

watching the sunshine and tidying,
tinkering with some drawings,
wondering if they were mine

or if somebody else had been
and worked out there.
Doesn’t matter, it’s too cold

today to do more than visit
and see what is and isn’t dry.
It’s not the end of the matter.
 
 The Model in the Studio -- Fernando Lopezpascual