Poetry : Walking Home

Out of the street, swarmed a hive of hoods

Stalking me with their gauze-like faces

Shoving and skulking, snarling they said,

"How lonely does it feel to be you?"

And as I meandered I met a

Beautician, with make up three men used

Who, muzzled and marked, mumbled and moaned

"How lonely does it feel to be you?"

Covering my tracks, I was caught by a

Camper, carrying his kerbside crap.

Clutching and crutching, he coughed a clause,

"How lonely does it feel to be you?"

With my wife wrapped in my arms, I thought,

"How lonely does it feel to be you?"

Tom Peel

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