The Fox

The snow drifts down like gently falling stars

as cars illuminate a cardboard box.

I know this town will leave its mental scars

but scars become this sleeping urban fox.

His dream brings him an image of a girl,

a swirl of words surrounding her in streams;

extreme emotions gradually unfurl

and curl around them both in both their dreams.

For somewhere in the night you’re sleeping too

and you are dreaming of the urban fox.

You somehow need the fox to dream of you

those nights you want to curl up in his box.

When snow is falling from the sky above

you know this sly old fox will dream of love.