That cushions me here in my bed
The sun slowly climbs my window
But the rain outside drowns my head
And there’s a couple in the hallway
Who are talking breakfast TV
It’s about as deep as the weatherman
But at least he knows when it’s raining
The neighbours play Bruce Springsteen
And sing along to ‘Brothers on the bridge’
But I’m staying here a little longer
Because hell, I like to think I earned it
Now the car alarms are ringing out
That’s the second time this week
So the neighbours turn Bruce up louder
And the couple in the hall start shouting!
I close my eyes- I’m not here
Venice, Prague, Paris, maybe Rome
But London keeps on calling me back
© Copyright 2016 Nixie. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Flash Fiction
Short Story / Fantasy
Poem / Poetry
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