Old monkey boots

A valid hardship

Injustice shelved like dusty books

Those browned and curling pages, that smell, hard to un love once hooked on

The noise those owls made

Hoots resonance across the empty village square

Now it’s the cats that disturb my sleep

And a forceful wake up

But those old roots

You can’t dig ‘em up

Got to keep hold of them

Like when a tree grows close to a house

You get rid of that tree and the foundations will crumble

Got to live with it see if you can adapt to it

Make the adaptation a nice personality trait.

Like the sudden boom of the owl bouncing of the church bell

And the absolute inactivity of the village after midnight

One lone car beams perhaps moving off

The glow of a lamp through multi layered nets

Silence and twitching

Freezing and adapting

A life stranger than rich slipping across mud flats of samphire and plastics