The Alley

A broom is drawn across the cobbles of the empty alley an empty matchbox a torn slipper and leaves dry leaves are driven from their sleep from the gutter from the way. A ripe apple from the corner of the full basket slips rolls over the cobbles of the alley falls into a hole stays where it is a man spits walks on the bitter message of a letter from the heart of an envelope comes out and torn to shreds behind the woman stays where it is. From the dry branches willow leaves fall. Rustle rustle silence rustle A broom is drawn across the cobbles of the empty alley ...