People walk past my isolation

Turning their eyes from my books.

I know this is a craft fair,

But writing is a craft too.

Isn't it?

A friend comes by.  A smile, a chat

Break the monotony of invisibility.

I sit opposite the optician,

Wearing glasses bought

From the opposition.

Grim faced shoppers grumble past,

Seeking bargains for the festive season,

Spreading joy and thunderclouds.

The heat rises to 36C outside,

The sun baking the cars, the dogs, the people.

I sit in the delicious cool

Sipping my cappuccino

(Table service from the corner café)

Contentment spreads,