The foolish boy moves in
bringing half-dead plants and unnecessarily
eager gesticulations equating to exhausting pantomime giddiness.
Nobody is this excited to exist in a world on fire.
I close the curtains, but you wrench them back again.
This is the time to look at the sky. Who cares
if the neighbours’ eyes start to strain?
There are billions of stars in the universe,
and we are fortunate enough to know some of them
by name.
I’m an English teacher in Manchester trying to document my thoughts through poetry.