When you wake at 3 a.m In SE5

When you wake
At 3 a.m
In SE5
There are sounds
Strangely mixing
In the gloom
Somewhere close
Little trickles
Of the heating
Somewhere far
Tiny sirens
Of the law
Pale blue eddies
Rushing through
The city’s canyons
Overhead
Anachronistically
A drone
A ghostly pilot
Who forever
Plows the stars
Now and then
Majestic sweeps
Of a night bus
All lit up
But devoid
Of passengers
Then those bells
So obscure
That they tell time
Uncertainly
Like a priest
Whose faith is reduced
To whispers
The bed creaks
As your partner
Senses your alertness
So you rise
To write these words
Onto the night
The bathroom sky
Is full of moonlight
But no moon
Shines upon
Magritte clouds
Rushed by invisible winds
Or Illuminates
The taboo garden
Where summer toys
Lie abandoned
Overturned
And forlorn
In the kitchen
Where you reach for
Some redemption
Autumn leaves
Already losing
Vivid splendour
Spill from a folder
Once considered
So important