Migraine Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

I'm lying here in a darkened room
where outside the rooftops glisten

slate grey clouds have come to listen
to the sing song of the girl next door

thunder that trundles its grey bundle
from Devon to here, looming

over fake squeals
and squall-slapped washing

there is a slamming shut once more
are all of us in various ways locked in?

I heard them come today to empty the bin
come, and empty my head of everything

later a chaos of kids fresh out of school
like roosting starlings line the road edge

waiting for a future to bid them cross
windscreen wipers every other second

blink anew, theres a Christmas thats near
and the present has wrapped a sense of loss