This city street is awash with yearning
people in the current,
jetsam in the gutters churning,
flotsam on the pavement.
No imminent fear of loss of life
but only deprivation
as displaced persons, refugees
hoping for salvation.
No aftermath of some disaster,
just a bit dejected
with levels of happiness much less
than what might be expected.
While the young are busy at work,
the old, infirm, inept,
the shameless few content to shirk
and those who overslept,
widows, widowers, husbands, wives
parade the shops bereft
to regain meaning in their lives
unsure where it was left.
Somewhere here they hope they'll make
a way out from their plight -
perhaps a chocolate bar will take
the pace of Mr Right.
That bloke dawdling by the pub
still thinking of his ex -
maybe another pint or two
will substitute for sex.
There's a couple slowly walking
towards the cosy coffee shop.
Perhaps a cup will start them talking
and save their marriage breaking up.
I, like them, am seeking love
and trawl potential partners;
I also could ask God above
for someone who likes gardeners.
I want the warmth of a partner's body,
comforting without stress,
but the warmth of a personality
is harder to assess.
Though much too old for passion now,
I'm still a mug for beauty
though trying to re-aim my bow
and answer call of duty.
I'm trying to develop a taste
for mutton over lamb
though sometimes it does seem a waste
of what I thought I am.
We all of us can make the most
of life without our spurning
experience so we can boast
this street's alive with learning.
