My New Home
Threadbare, uninviting, almost claustrophobic,
And cold. I could not afford heat.
I put on the lights and felt an icy solitude.
No home sweet home for me.
Would I get attuned to my new apartment?
Lonely, I ate my packed tasteless food quickly,
changed into a cosy track suit, switched off the lights
and went to bed hoping for pleasant elusive dreams.
Suddenly melodic tunes infiltrated my slumber.
I wake. Upstairs someone must love old time songs.
Like a somnambulant I climb the stairs and knock.
She was like a mirage, shimmering in the haze of a desert.
Silently she beckoned me inside the warm room.
My name is Angel, she whispered. And the dance began,
Until tired, the haze of the desert enveloped me too.
Much later I woke.
I was in my bed. Was it a dream? Probably.
The landlord said the upper flat was empty still,
But to be occupied that day, Someone called Angel.
That night I did not sleep, but waited for the music to start.
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