Awaking
I look straight through the pane,
and see the floating veins of branches, naked and sometimes in full bloom.
Behind this the national flag flaps away, raised by the good vicar's son, he used to be a lawyer, by the way, he likes to preach.
Always a jumbo in the distance,
to remind of the present days,
watches, phones and passports,
knocking back the gins, cruising above my bed.
The upstairs lot, have moved in,
and flush constantly,
the ubiquitous siren wails in the distance.
Time to emerge now, wallet, scarf and keys at the ready.
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