like looking down
the throat of
a carrion crow
abandoned by
its mother and
left to eat
alone
the heat from
each brick under
the toes
radiates and
glows as much as
those on either
shoulder bone
superior eyes
in the room
cocked and pointed
at you
your shoes
your coat
wallet
or hotel reservation
footsteps follow
close behind and
grind the fear
though kind intention,
only ease when home is near.
Lewis Wyn Davies 