I Dream of a Coastal Wind

I dream of a coastal wind.

Strong and fresh, whipping round the buildings, red brick structures that have stood against worse.

It whips up the trees, that rustle against your windows, and howls down the alleyways that sit between us all.

The breeze coming through your cracked window in unevenly brutal, catching curtains and lampshades, sending them swinging.

The candles flame, flickering abruptly up the wall.

Smoke rises from the ashtray and dances upwards, snaking through the gloom, while half drank cold cups of coffee litter the floor, amidst the escalating piles of clothing.

I can feel your sleeping breath warm on my chest, as you slumber silently in my arms.

We are wrapped in a tangle, a swaddle of bed sheets, as outside, the wind whips round the inevitable smell of dusty rain, rumbling high above.