Night Foxes
Mine is a London in darkness
dawn empty streets
night foxes
mine is a chill in the air
the tramping of feet
wind strewn leaves ‘mongst the litter
‘neath an artists violet brush
mine is a lovers locked lips
a turning aside
moments stolen down curious lanes
mine is a stain on the pavement
glass to the chin
bruising of knees
the drip of blood on carpet
life draining to the sea
mine is a stumbling step
a city awakening
an arm round a waist
toward a promise of day.
Michael Burrows 
1 thought on “Night Foxes”