Silvers spins on an oak table.  
Steven hums Mozart melodies.

"Music is good for the health"

The gamble is taken.
Every coin; two sides.

Today the poor rejoice for
tomorrow the rich will lose.

Silver coins are lost.  Clattering to the sidewalk.  Empty pockets like empty houses.  Homeless in their hearts.

In her hand I ride the tracks. Time stamped with no use-by
date.  An bus ticket torn in two, it's impossible to forget you.

The empty coke bottle spins inside, the apple-pie's half eaten.

Your shoes all scuffed. Your hat still crushed. The wall from which you fell.  The orange peel hidden in your bag.

This picture frame is soon to be trashed.

Water drips. A phone rings.  The baby has arrived.  Tomo calls.  Grab a taxi. The visit is on. Yellow toys bobbing.  Well that's the aim.  Fingers are crossed.  Get your money ready.  It's cold outside. The rain is here.

English tea and scones with cream.  

A cigarette dangles from his lips.  The blonde-haired girl watches as the smoke rises.  Between them a newspaper sits upon the table.  

They have stopped to peruse their purchases:

The Bletchley code-breaker story always enthralls, and John Lennon never grows old.

Smoke rings continue to rise, eventually to fade away .

Overgrown lawn
rusted and green:
Machinery down.

Mystic musician, zero to nine,
dead and buried, never more
alive.

Scents, tastes, visions, sounds.

Surrounded by others; people,
pets, wildlife, flowers.

Trees bearing fruit, and bushes
with berries.

Aware to the abundance of life.