Everyday theatre

Sometimes, it starts with just perhaps  
the dog will pant and paw
eyes with expectation light  
his lead hangs by the door  
 
The backdrop of my unshaven chin  
white snowflakes of dandruff fall  
time to don the trace, adieu within  
claustrophobia unlocked by open air  
 
its faint euphoria of diesel fumes  
I brave the cold 'neath winter clothes  
naphthalene balls, long lost their power  
the moth holes and mould  
 
I hold the romance of new cut grass  
the time when we were free  
our chatter stirred like autumn leaves  
that rise and  fall, released like an escapee  
 
 Quiet empty street, just BOB pulls on his lead  
the clatter of the garbage wagon  
clearing all the petrification  
valentines day flowers, gone Miss Siagon  
 
February's  brief aroma's, of chocolate's  
half burned Yankee, scented candles  
as we press on, snapping twigs  
old crisp packets, detritus, a perfect shambles  
 
Park gates, lost their guild  
let off the leash, constraints all unpinned  
tall branches beckon  
prompts called from the wings  
 
The joy, that hears the fountains arch  
dancing as it falls  
that sparkles bright however dark  
dogs run and bark, the lockdown lessen its recoil  
 
The performance was behind closed doors  
walking to the box office  
dystopia its grip not heed my step  
 curtain rise, green shoot's on wood and coppice  
 
Elasticity  of stride, foot fall stuck with pride  
the stalls and from the gods  
dark paths away, from concrete blocks  
eyes of fenestration, the whistles and the nods