A chance of fresh air,

just for a while to escape the house

to soak in the residue

of life, this point of it all,

to sit and gaze up at an old god

and thank him for dancing

with the moon.

The moon, I used to fear her,

hanging there like an afterthought,

blood soaked in my dreams,

far too many nights watching

Hammer House of Horror when I was small boy,

the Saturday night ritual

I was allowed wonderfully to explore

from such a young age,