Holiday Poem

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Tomorrow all this will be over twitter.

The smoking in doors, the irregular sleeping hours and random eating patterns
will cease, the Fairy Prince returns. I will have to clean and shop.

A few conspiracy theories and antisocial memories seep out. I feel
no more fear than I did before. As it laps
around, shrinking and stretching both our horizons.

Tomorrow the medicine taking, Tom and Jerry Show watching
and dish washing
begins again but without the noise that was there before.
We will swash buckle across the park, over bridges and across the burn
to Morrisons for chips, peas and cake. Peter Pan and Captain Hook.

Until then I leave the radio on and let the others seep a little
closer to my senses as their faces turn to remains.

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