I sit now watching a couple through the split in their yellow-lit curtains, in the dance of domesticity
Ironed tracksuits and morning smiles sunny-side-up
All the words unspoken, feelings unfelt, lips unkissed
Didn’t they learn that life is not a Christmas list?
Reality in monochrome; all these grey-cladded whites
A hundred whiskered men with their socks matching the pavement
I’ve never felt so lonely so far from alone
Doors closed, shutters drawn, a double-glaze that’s keeping out more than just the cold
Sweetly Unhappy People 