AT OBAN HOUSE

Washing, multi-coloured,
Flutters in the evening sun,
Seen through the leaves
Of a spider plant
On our window sill.
Over the railings
Of our shared balcony –
Flowers, golden in summer,
White in autumn,
Sprinkle the hedges.

A recycle bin overflows.
Below, much greenery.
Tenants embrace the earth –
With runner beans and pumpkins.
People pass at ground level.
They are often unknown.
Here in east London –
Transient dwellers in
Shifting neighbourhoods of change.

The washing alters,
But is there every day.
Bathed in sunlight, it rocks gently.
Oases of tranquillity,
Even in this city.
The need to escape has gone.
Gratitude bursts through the calm
Of a long peace.

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