Kismet In Surburbia

Fresh start, another day, another life, a quiet cafe. Starbuck euphoria.
Count my blessings, crossword ready. Soon, pipe and slippers in the study by
the telly.
I seek forgiveness, I beg your pardons at number 9 Mulberry Gardens.
Fresh start, another day, another life so far away from hell-raised aria.
Now I lay me down to live in acquiescence, mine to give to all who listen.
Deaf to dark un-heavenly host at 25 Mulberry Close.
Fresh start, another day, another life so far away from white heat Arabia.
Comrades' pictures on the mantle, lit by flower-scented candle, ghostly,
flicker.
Last man standing, bowed but alive at 33 Mulberry Drive.
Fresh start, another day, another life not so far away in slow-burn suburbia.
All routine and repetition, stamp-collecting, first editions, steam
train-spotting.
Numb, the senses and numb, the brain, at 54 Mulberry Lane.
Fresh start, another day, my cared-for partner just slipped away from sweet
utopia.
Bequeathed comforts, ceramic hob, electric blanket, your uncle’s Bob:
a pretty picture.
Treasured moments, past and present, at 17 Mulberry Crescent.