it felt off-colour from the start

somehow cold sad and needy

I was on my emotional uppers

long-time alone and seedy

bad things can happen at night

the dark covers a litany of pain

out there lurk glib wrong-doers

from stalkers to the sons of Cain

lured by your knowing eyes

I should have known better

rain was falling like stair-rods

my feet were getting wet...

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Lied back

Eyes staring upwards

At the Soft Cell poster

Awkwardly tacked to the ceiling

But already beginning to curl at the edges

The sound of crockery clattering

Gently switches me back to reality

The familiar sound of the pot mixing bowl

Rocking back and forth

As Mum beats the eggs with alarming ferocity

(No mechanical aids in sight to whizz the mix into fluffy...

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