I watch as darkness creeps up to the window,
my moon face sharpening into a crisp white orb.
Plant pots,
chilled and chipped,
their contents standing skeletal,

reaching through the night

to pull me from my sanctuary.

The Christmas lights arc their reflection,
the halo of the inside world,
as radiators chunter and grumble to life,
filling this home with Winter warmth
that seeps into my soul like hot brandy.

Across the road,
the flickering blue white of the neighbours’ TV
traps the darkness between us – two slices of light –
oases of lit loveliness in night’s desert.


One thought on “Sanctuary

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