Atari shapes of passing headlights
slip linear shadows across this wall,
as raindrops snare the rooftops firmly.
A pin-prick watch insists on joining silence,
and torchlight floods down on my hand,
to cast this mighty pen in silhouette.
Outside my duvet savannah,
lazy Saturday, no agenda,
waits skulking in the black to pounce.
The day will come, sure as the sun,
a cappuccino in the kitchen,
signalling that we are home.