Quiet Road.....................................25

Sound of the asphalt lorry
beeping its reverse all day
on the road outside
fills my head.

I get up
in the middle of the tarry night -
write again
of you being gone.

But one day soon
a thick black smother
will smooth over these
familiar botched hole-patches
of verse

Then there will be
white lines of surrender
between now and then
and you could pass by
without waking a word
on this quiet new surface