'In your arms' and 'Cold Streets'
In your arms. I wake up thinking of you, and drag through the day... through dull routines and boring speeches, wishing I were in your arms. I walk home in the evening, thinking of you. I get the shopping, do the chores, sit staring at the screen, and I was...I was...in your arms. I stand and watch the water flow, I walk down the quay, I go to my café for tea, still wishing I were in your arms. Cold Streets There’s no escape, no shelter. The rain falls relentlessly. I’m hungry, someone please feed me before I perish on the cold streets. The rain makes me want to die. There’s no one to hear; everyone hurries by, hidden by rain gear. I sit in a doorway, watching Garda vans go by. There’s been a stabbing down the road. I sit alone and cry.