Quiet

NEAR MY HOME

I reached the end of a narrow lane,
Past cottages glistening wet on the windowpane.
Past old tree stumps and thistle bushes,
Past sweet melodies of near by thrushes.

People pass me wearing thick overcoats,
Engine noise in the distance from nearby boats.
Picnic areas adorned with ink,
Trodden flowers that once bloomed pink.

Carved initials hacked into nearby trees,
The soft humming of a solitary bee.
To my right factories loom,
Dull, dirty adding to the gloom.
To my left my house painted white,
Comfort, warmth shelter from the night.