A Lover’s Flit

I remember a lamp-lit street. The churned mud. My coated boots. The reflections of my marathon in glazed windows. The chase for your starlight. Past open casket addicts, noseless drunks. Hungry thugs. I remember the stench of booze permeated the air. The trees on the green. Whispering in the dark. Yellow-sheened eyes observing through the leaves. Sirens carried by the wind—a closed casket addict. The local yobs. Huddled around a bandstand yet oblivious to its meaning. A dedication to fallen soldiers. School kids webbed in the wrong crowd. Leering as I run past. The turn to your road. Uniform terrace homes. Nothing special but your door. Freshly painted navy blue. The mosaic glass panes now slightly frosted. Number thirteen encrusted. The green man knocker. The bell rang. My heart-beaten head. Your slow descent of the stairs, rhythmic like the ticking of a clock. A countdown for fate. Your answer.

Biography: I graduated recently from the University of Reading, studying English Literature with Creative Writing. I have now moved on to study for an MA in Creative Writing. I haven’t been writing for too long but like to think I specialise in prose poetry and short stories.