the old town calls,
far and way, the street sounds are calling
and road sounds roll,
the air is cool and calm and clean,
like all sweet flavours dripping
sweet nothings down my chin.
the swallows will soon be gone,
condensation settles on car windows,
the park woven in webs,
as the sleeping stay warm in their beds.
i saw mum at the bus stop,
and waved, and smiled
she waved and smiled,
and the day ticks by,
there is barely a cloud in the sky.