Nine Lines from the Last of Spring

Drag-out of bed, unlock and lock the door. Quick tramp into town.
The day passes.
The Cinema, a film about nazis on the moon.

Walk home through the stretched out twilight. Late and still light, and it makes me think of the sea stretched back from the sand, the pebbles. A wide expanse of something exposed.
Driftwood. Rubbish. Things you lost.

Things I lost.
I think of a dark room with drawn shutters. A room I've not seen - only in dreams of Malta - and these dreams only half remembered.