Netty Thoughts of Tinseltoe Days

I was looking for beauty
In the rain
Slapping across my window pane.
In the flowers
Touching my face
While I walked 
to the tube station every morning.
In the songs 
Of many artistes – good and less good.
In the aerial act of a friendly spider 
Dancing a cobweb in my kitchen.
In photographs of my friends
Who seemed happy with their married lives.
In my mother’s voice
When she sang along Ghulam Ali
In our living room.
In the moon
Climbing the sky
From the window in my room.
Through the glass of Mulbec
at Queen’s Head.
In the dishes covered with
soporific bubbles.