Clatter this day to it's morning of breaking fast
The city's brethren emerge to tender to early chores in dawn shadows,
Mist swirls to mask a murky  way to office or factory floor,
Awakening yawns of many duties drawn to routine ways and means,
Walking fast, cycling past, or riding on high, whilst the mud flies by,
Looking forward to nothing but the tram line path,
I see your ageing face the same time each day,
Pale in those side lines of city life
Framed in my cracked stained window pane.