The Deserted Lane

A cold winter windy night back from the last cinema show the lane in sleeping mode wearing the walls of brick and mortar like a woolly blanket The Northwind blowing in through gaps like water gushing out of a large pipe mouth hitting the closed window glasses not looking at the eyes of street dogs snuggling along the sidewalk To reach my flat in a jiffy in the housing society the waiting bed and double quilt slipping into and closing eyes my world now topsy-turvy