No. 9You have intertwined yourself into every fibre of my being
To the point where I wonder if it had always been so I step out into the cold. Hello my sweetheart The fresh air The thoughts of you Biting cold first of March wind Whipping through Houndsditch road Plastic tarpaulin smacking against metal makeshift fences Bleak and cold December all over again but too soon and no Christmas promise An evening who’s blustery winds push me home with all its might Ambivalent minds quickly made up And warmth of home is first choice Newspapers lift and take on life tear through the dark streets Terrorising inhabitants You are there throughout And warm my soul from within |