One Off The Wrist In The Wendy House (for Neil)

It’s raining hard
and I’m wet through,
because of you.

I’m locked out
of the bungalow. 
Cold.
Whilst you are in
somewhere. 
Warm.

To keep hot, I try
running on the spot,
but its not working.

I clamber the garden fence
at the expense of my chinos
and find sanctuary 
in next door’s
Wendy House.

In there
 I despair 
at us, and from 
my rucksack. I 
pull my pad 
and quill.

I then
write, write
write, write,
write, write,
write,write,
write,
write, write,
write, WRITE, WRITE WRITE
over you.

Until the post man 
appears at the window.

With a parcel
from Amazon.