The rain drops land on the dark window pane,
And are frozen into diamonds scattered on a black felt baize,
By the room's yellow reflection.

I watch the few that break free, run, downwards,
Tracing irregular paths past their cohort
Until they vanish, behind the cold grey alloy finishing line.

In this silence,
occasionally broken by the sound of rolling rubber on wet Tarmac
I read of villains and heroes in futures and in pasts.

And once again,
As my breathing becomes shallow and my pulse becomes slow,
I put the cap on another day, without you.