New Houses

Lawns of preened evergreen

forever seen

Until those few barmy days of snow

That ice up the motors

And mess up our rotas.

We live in the new houses

Built far out- away from those cold

Ignorant rows, the ghosts of old.

At Christmas, lights bathe

Like burning rainbows

All along our homes and hedgerows-

We will outdo, those

Neighbours new.

Our streets are silent.

At night, nothing gives fright,

Except maybe

the occasional stray that comes into play.

we sleep sound.

Our homes are compounds

Safe behind the double glass bind.

Nothing can harm us here.

We can pontificate

On lesser estates

They lie further in

Cesspools and dustbins.

I hear what they get up to:

They never sleep

They endlessly weep

But it matters not

As we sip fine wine with the fire on,

So distant are their calls,

drowned out by the siren.

What chance have they to disturb

Upset and violate the curb

Outside our windows?

Our streets are pristine

They are for show

To our own, of course

we work hard for this

A safe, monotone bliss

but they seem to samba in madness

The dank drowned alcoholics and the funky junkies

That never worked hard-

They lounge and scrounge

But they will never live in these houses.

They will never know of marriage

or the double garage.