The Cobbles Outside Brasenose College
The Cobbles Outside Brasenose College You are the rainbow sheen of the ink from a black ballpoint pen laid out on the paper. I am the light from the torch that dances off falling drops of rain. They look like snowflakes except not as cold. And not as beautiful. You are the majesty of the night that sits around the shoulders of buildings. I am the crumbling of sandstone beneath fingertips. You are the crisp white fibres of a cotton shirt lined up like soldiers waiting to go home. I am the breeze that slips in between cardigans: the breach in the barrier that cannot be identified. Least of all by me; and it is my body. You are a degree, a title. Enshrined in the historic register of wasted days. I am all the books you didn't read but should have done. —————— This is the first poem I wrote in Oxford. It’s based on a series of conversations I had with a friend, about our preconceptions of Oxford and the reality when we arrived. People reading t