the street lights

Leaves are stricken pale.

 

Gold (the interplay of

cloud/moon, head-

lights) - the flax

shadows the letter box.

 

When shall the cat

learn?

 

There’s nothing here

to be frightened of.

 

The sudden rush of wind, feet,

is no threat; do you think I’d let

something bad happen to you?

 

It’s cool & you’re

next minute all:           what’s

 

that? - A car door

slams &

 

.
http://bit.ly/2LGtGze

Poetry posted here was originally posted on New Zealand Poetry

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