A list for the dverse prompt
I want no more of this drunken din,
the brash and bold brawlings
that tear the air into flying shreds of noise.
No more smoke, greasy and grey,
from other people’s fun cooking.
No more paper trampled into meaningless pulp
and bottle glass strewn in shatters.
I have no use for cars,
ripping up the night,
nor the braying laughter of the lost.
I will have some peace sometime,
grass-damp and silent mornings,
where the only sound is the tiny swish
of starlings waddling through the dew.