Locked Out

of the house

Grey and rainy day.

damp out Outwood way.

Locked doors

bar the way.

Someones moved in

to our first house,

cardboard on the doorstep

that I once cleared of snow.

The chip shop

is a funeral parlour.

The bike shop

is gone.

So walk home

down Ouchthorpe lane.

The rising wind,

insidious rain.

The muddy path

and golfer's scorn

deliver us

to home

reborne.