The Race Home

I ride the night-time scalextric
monotonous in movement
fixated by light
the smiling moon as my wingman

Dry with colour

The bright sea of umbrellas bob across East Andrews Park,

red, spotted, floral, transparent, blue, stripy and pink,

beacons of light on a wet, grey day.

Slowly does it

The overnight blanket slows the roads

as the morning sludge grows

drivers take the risk

Pink fluffy edges

Townhouse windows ablaze with the reflection of the setting winter sun,
a rose tinted haze gives softness to the encroaching expansion of the town

Fade to grey

The end of festivities litter Southampton's streets.
A christmas tree protrudes from a trade waste skip,
gold and silver wrapping paper spills from bins,
empty boxes stacked against walls.
Christmas colours fade to January grey