"5th Floor Balcony"

I can hear the wind
Whistling through
Whispering to me
In a strange language
That I don't understand.
A bit like poetry
As I am sat  here.
The whole balcony
Almost my own.
Manners maketh the man
Resting my bad foot up
On the adjacent seat
Under the protection
Of yesterday's 'Metro'
Which resisted the attempt
To turn into
The traditional
Fish and chip paper. Except...
We don't really do that
Here in London.
And a rude commuter type
I am not.
Trains rumbling below
Children cheerfully
Chattering and whooping
Fountain unseen 
Four floors down.
Opposite of old times
Heard but not seen.
A bit like me
As I hide up here
At peace
Content with the world
Knowing that
In just over a month
I WILL be in Hamburg!
Where I DESPERATELY 
Want to be. A bit like now:
Resting. Reading.
Relaxing. Writing.
Inwardly rejoicing
Possibly on the mend.
As lonely as I may seem here
The happiest I have been
For months
Not including
Promotion, naturally.
No fancy words needed.
Just simple 
Working Class Poetry
For a simple
Working Class Bloke
Like me.

Dulwich Poet 6th June 2018

(I wrote this sat on the open air balcony, overlooking the Thames, at the Festival Hall, having been told a few days earlier that my daily dose of injected antibiotics will be stopped and I will change to oral tablets, meaning I can go on the Altona tour!)