Holidays out of season

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Rain has come and emptied the ancient streets
Everywhere people rush to watch TV
And chase the sun back as it retreats
Wailing on the edge of reason
As it is safe to say goodbye and
This is the end of the season
I wrote a postcard
To the 'O so dear'
And got back to white proto-vino
Nature on the VHF channel
That bored my senses and
Closed my lids until it disappeared
For the pattering to remain
Maddening the vanished crowd
Starring cross eyed out of a window
Where the glass merges tears
And rain in torrents drowns
Lanes and alleys whispering please
And we have no joy from hearing
A repeated drumming withering nerves
Frayed screams and forgotten dreams
Stood on an imagined pier.

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