I'll be publishing poetry here
Glasgow never really slept last night.
She just wound down to pauses of silence
drunken shouts and the squeal of bus brakes.
Then the big engines of the morning roar,
searching out the first footfalls of dawn
to sweep them up and carry them on.
Without meaning or purpose to life.
we accelerate hard away from the light.
A toilet flushes, then another. The clink
of cups, rushing showers, clip of doors.
People brushing along the corridors.
Some to breakfast, some to cars, and some
to early morning bars. I long to dress
and like feather on a breeze blow away.
 Published Your One Phone call june 21 july 5 2015
 Published Stares Nest 8th April 2015