THE VIEW FROM MY WINDOW
Old women with polished perms on fat heads
Men tinkering with diseased cars
Dogs taking their owners to the park,
Where they converse with friends
And crap indiscriminately.
The postman, the gasman, the milkman,
Two door-to-door leaflet saleswomen,
A stray cat or two,
And twenty five chimney-stack pigeons.
Then there are all those aerials,
Like one-legged storks, looking down
On the patched-up pavements.
Where have all the front gates
Absconded to, I wonder.
Frightened away by all the leering
For Sale signs
Constantly peering over their shoulders?
I guess that must be it.
My Writing Life 