Holiday Poem
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.