The desklamp stands between me and the window;
The window separates me from the night.
On the other side of the glass,
Insubstantial but bright,
Amidst the black void of the night park,
My reflection returns my every glance,
My gaze, my every gesture.
If I question it with my eyes,
It questions me with its eyes –
My constant companion until the thin light of dawn.

A small photo album rests in the desk drawer:
In there are traces of life,
Mostly black and white,
One in sepia, three in colour.

I place the album on the desk
In the lamplight,
And turn its leaves.
Human life is in these paper images.
Time is in their stillness.

On the street side of the house
A car approaches and is gone.
In the kitchen the fridge hums
And in its own time
Clicks and shudders gently into the silence.