Both, they bring me back to Barker Road

I lift my face to receive the wind’s kisses-
Possibly recycled in this climate’s habit of weather and pressure,
Like the world’s clichés and empty phrases,
Renewing the senses when we try to make sense of it,
and when you welcome its tangibility.
The sweet red blooms set the sky on fire,
Yet can’t contaminate just how blue it is
Unlike the sun’s new dawn and tired dusk.
Both, they bring me back to Barker Road.
The joggers’ sweaty grin (or grimace)
and the lady on the stairs.
The swirls from her cigarette rise up before
settling down to almost nothing where I stand and chat.
Cause all misty-eyed and rosy cheeked
Or a nicotine- fixed blank stare
The steel gate keeps the lonely heart in
to TV programs and microwave dinners
Till sometime it opens to a lover there.
Armed with one bunch of hydrangea
And groceries for two
Both, they bring me back to Barker Road.

I have no Polaroid to keep
And no videocam to direct the scene
But in my dreams both night and day,
They bring me back to Barker Road.