My town's most famous poet, U A Fanthorpe, recently died, leaving behind her distraught lesbian partner. I remember a short while back, our local newspaper published a poem she wrote all about how much she loved our town, how much she loved the hills and everything. It was written as if she was talking about a woman she was in love with, which is a nice approach to it. It was beautifully written.

Wikipedia - U A Fanthorpe
The Poetry Archive - U A Fanthorpe

Anyway...

I was out for a midday walk down by the stream today (with my notepad, in case I got inspired), when I saw UAF's partner Rosie. She has short white hair, glasses, and I've never once seen here wear a skirt (but then saying that, I myself have never worn a skirt either). She didn't see me. She doesn't know who I am. I hope she's okay though.

For some reason I imagined that Rosie often goes for walks to write poems. And then I realised - I'm assuming that they were both poets. I've always had this image in my mind of two lesbian poets living together, in an old house full of old books, going out for long walks together and writing poems. But no, Rosie is not a poet at all.

I wish I was a lesbian poet.