The flat is quiet and so lonely tonight
No sound of music, TV, radio
No smiles, fingers, soft flesh to set alight
These smouldering embers from five days ago
When I last saw you, when we felt the glow
Now you are a receding star, too dark
To pick out from the cluster. Do you know
My future’s in your palm, and needs to talk
To me? Would I suit you? This is hard work
Getting you off my mind so I can write
Especially with that laughter from below
Even a strummed guitar now from the Turks
They’ve heard me play, perhaps they thought they might
Give it a go. Why not give it a go?
Thur 22 Jan 2009
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