Thursday, 19 December 2013

A pair of poems about being alone in my flat

Wednesday morning
A bath, with a book
A deep bath, with a good book
The morning, stubborn as a duvet, waiting for its coffee
Music tidying its way around the flat
Sheets of 6am traffic floating in through the lounge window, leaving by the kitchen door

Thursday evening
Fish and chips in boxer shorts
A book on the balcony with a glass of wine
A blushing sunset somewhere behind the steady momentous clouds
Music on the hi-fi, sweet American music
The cool sea air waltzing in through the lounge window, leaving by the kitchen door

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