Autumn
Autumns crisp
star studded night,
with head gripping cold
and steam-train breath.
Makes walking home
from the pub an adventure,
not unfraught with the
danger of an icy death.
Trees black
finger thin branches,
try to take my coat as I pass
to warm their bark.
As I shiver and huff
and hum-mumble
Moby tunes to
keep back the dark.
Why does my heart....
feel so bad...
Road cold
shoe beat monotony,
echos from blank eyed houses
in their silent beds.
Reach home
close the door on the night
safe and warm
I rest my weary head.