Charlotte Sings

When I’m smoking outside bars And the ash falls in the rain, The alloy wheels of passing cars Spin blurring down the lane; It takes no sense of reason, Still the gutters murmur tales, Cartons greased of gastric treason Make their happy trails. When she smiles down from the screen, From the plasma on the wall, The dirty brickwork seems more clean And light shines on us all; I find it leaves me pining For a dream that doesn’t fail, Gorgeous eyes in dusk defining Of the fairest nightingale.