I know,

I know,

Even through a grey mist

The air full of apprehension

Winter cold pressing in

Wood burning stoves

Struggling to warm old houses

Gabled roofs sagging lower

Desperate to ease their burden

Cracked windows looking on

Tearfully

Dust smeared

Broken hearts pained

On dirty glass

The sun in hiding somewhere

Up there

As tired horses pull

A cart full of coal

Slowly up the hill,

Though only yards away

The ripple of muscle

And sinew, barely visible

In the choke

Of early evening.

The sound of those

Who once were lovers

Argue over money

A lack of it

A lack of affection

A lack of hope

The need for it.

Lonely people

Peeping through the velvet

There is a sadness about

Heavy curtains

The weight of them

Pulled tight

Sealing them in, out

Candles burn down low

Grimed in wax

Runnels of condensation

Pool on window sills

Drowning flies

As old dogs dream

Of the chase

Those close to death

Remember it well

Even so

I know

Whatever the meaning

The purpose

The vision

We are all disappointed.

In me.