In Cambridge – Vincent Edward Manda


This is a little story

About beautiful women;

Youthful, mature

Maybe somewhere in-between,

Slender or curvy,

Indeed, of all races and creeds.


In short shorts

And low slung shirts,

Loose fitting cardigans

Over tight jeans,

A pair o’ baggy pants or two,

Perhaps in that long flowing gown

Or the odd maxi dress

They cycle quickly or leisurely

On bicycles of all shapes and sizes

In the hot summer sun,

Free of that burning, polluted London air

Magnifying heat unbearably.


They ride through ferocious winds

That turn hair

Into veils over fleeting glimpses

Of wonder filled eyes

And reckless smiles

On quickly disappearing faces,

While others catch calm breezes

And let their hair bounce

With each turn of the pedal

And every sharp curve

In the ancient yet clean streets

Bordered by grand old buildings

Hiding historic and bygone tales.


This is a tiny story;

Of little consequence to most,

About a girl

With icy blue eyes

Holding scarlet dots in the center

That make me wonder:

What is it that lies

Within her mind

As she cycles on the pavements

Of old Cambridge Town?


his name rhymes with ‘mince’. He’s rarely without a notebook and can usually be found next to the closest bottle of red wine. Previously a writer for The Roehampton Lane Journal.

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