It wouldn’t settle in the evening,
The concrete soaked from a day of living.
But as night stilled the pavements,
As the air took on the chill of space
It snailed its way along branches, tiptoed up the glass,
Tucked in the car opposite and I wanted,
To go outside right there and then,
And write across the windscreen that I loved you,
So that next time you wander to the window
Not expecting it, you’ll see.