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
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