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Nov 2017
Under a large, round, yellow
Full November moon
The chill of the cold, dark night
Slips in through my window
It fights against the heating
To send a shuddering shiver down my spine

Under the full November moon
People spill out of noisy pubs
Leaving heat, light, music
A false, inebriated happiness
To stagger, swirling home
To warm beds of love
Or cold, empty houses
And late night T.V.

Under the full November moon
Teenager's breath leaves clouds in the air
Hanging heavy and mingling with smoke
From spliffs secretly held in cupped hands
Hanging around shops, parks
Even the disappearing phone boxes
Feeling the arrogance of youth
Course through their veins

Under the full November moon
The middle aged sit
In armchairs with tea mugs
T.V. droning as they dream of their youth
When they were slim and ****
Or hungry and virile
Before it all slipped so quickly away

Under the full November moon
Swingers swap flesh and fluids
In hotels and motels
With no more passion or emotion
Than passing the salt

Under the full November moon
Prostitutes haul their tired, aching bodies
From car to car for the price of a hit
The dealers  swagger, stoked full of *******​
With the power and arrogance of mediaeval lords

Under the full November moon
People sweat in police cells
Under grey, itchy blankets
On blue rubber mattresses
In a white - tiled nightmare

Under the full November moon
I think of them all
As I sir writing ideas
In a cheap, lined pad
Then turn off the lights
As the full November moon
Bids goodnight
To us all
Ian Lewis Copestick
Written by
Ian Lewis Copestick  45/M/Stoke On Trent
(45/M/Stoke On Trent)   
992
       Aazzy, ---, ---, Lawrence Hall, --- and 1 other
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