Linwood Park

Three stories high
overlooking the cars
above the Sunday morning
refuse bins.

We notice that the 
early April branches
are in need of
birds and blossom.

That the gas fire sunrise
deserves a Lionel Bart overture.
The paperboy some Wu Tang
for his wheelie. 

But for us. The so called addicts,
etched in the window frames.
Well. We should be rubbed out
and redrawn.

With scarlet ribbons in our hair
boarding a trolley car
to take us home.