Kismet In Suburbia - Ian Anderson

Fresh start, another day, another life, a quiet cafe.

Starbuck euphoria.

Count my blessings, crossword ready.

Soon, pipe and slippers in the study by

the telly.

I seek forgiveness, I beg your pardons at number 9 Mulberry Gardens.

Fresh start, another day, another life so far away from hell-raised aria.

Now I lay me down to live in acquiescence, mine to give to all who listen.

Deaf to dark un-heavenly host at 25 Mulberry Close.

Fresh start, another day, another life so far away from white heat Arabia.

Comrades' pictures on the mantle, lit by flower-scented candle, ghostly,

flicker.

Last man standing, bowed but alive at 33 Mulberry Drive.

Fresh start, another day, another life not so far away in slow-burn suburbia.

All routine and repetition, stamp-collecting, first editions, steam

train-spotting.

Numb, the senses and numb, the brain, at 54 Mulberry Lane.

Fresh start, another day, my cared-for partner just slipped away from sweet

utopia.

Bequeathed comforts, ceramic hob, electric blanket, your uncle’s Bob:

a pretty picture.

Treasured moments, past and present, at 17 Mulberry Crescent.