I stare out of my window at the midnight street: Desperate lovers roam back alleys, hoping one day they’ll meet. Creeping shadows cast from dimming street lamps haunt the pathways; Yawning teens sit awake typing up long overdue essays; The dreams of the unsuccessful hang in the sky with the stars; Drunken mugs trip over their own feet outside the city bars A lone tree stands to attention in the middle of a frost bitten field Fear ridden walkers use recycling bins and garden walls as shields
Workaholics typing themselves into oblivion Athletes run laps hoping to become an Olympian Stray cats and the heart wrenching cries of the homeless haunt the alleys Holiday goers walk by torchlight through hundred year old valleys Hopeful wannabes sing their shoulda coulda wouldas by the crack in the kerb Whilst I sit… staring at the wall thinking of a perfect verb