I gaze out of the window in the drunken hours -
a battered ford Mondeo looms out of the darkness,
unmoving on the pavement, reassuring and ghost-like.
the crackle of the polish neighbours' cheerful television set
A familiar scene is illuminated by the streetlight's yellow glow.
An ashtray sits on the windowsill of the record shop
lace curtains billow in the night breeze
Red wine in a mug, giggles and faint music
Creaking swings in the city park
and window lights dotted few and far between.
the dirt of my windowbox smells rich and dark
and my wilted sunflowers have closed up for the night.