Roads and streets unfamiliar
Filled with grey drawn faces
That peer down at tipsy slabs underfoot
Coats pulled tight to tucked in chins
Fists pushed deep into pockets
Stooped figures limping toward the electric-white glow
Pale shadows struggle to keep up
With these sad shufflers
Wrapt in hopeful talk.

The same battered cars line kerbs
Bumpers kissing
Litter blown by stiff north-easterly draughts
Sticks carelessly to railings

Ice in rain fills holes in the cold breeze
Pricks pins in my face
Grey sky adopts a gloomy shade
Their stadium leans in on itself
Perpetually introvert
Morose

Its pointless activity
Steals any joy
From coming dawns
Scarves and shirts in reds and whites
Accents more rural than this dockland setting
Suggest spaces more green
Less concrete
Than this

This is far from our home
Where blue skies shine
Brilliant sun parades
Strong enough to make eyes squint
When we wake
It warms our blood
Calls us to play
Unfettered by fear of failure
At night the star and crescent
Heaven's light
Our guide.

This is their place
I leave them
Happy
To be miserable

CLP 27/10/2018