Old Lavender

The smell of lavender remains
and won’t dissolve in water that’s
condensing on the windowpane.

The echo of a midnight train
at noon, runs round an empty flat
that smells of lavender, remains

unoccupied except by stains
of age, infirmity and cats.
Condensing on the windowpane,

a drop of liquid falls like rain,
a damp spot on a vintage hat
that smells of lavender. Remains

have been disposed of, proper pains
were taken, all the forms were pat.
Condensing on the windowpane

a figure sketched in moisture gains
a solid shadow, dark and matte.
The smell of lavender remains,
condensing on the windowpane.


Collection available! Knocking from Inside