i come from poem

I come from

I come from rustling paper and murmured lines

Backstage praying silently

From deep red curtains, ladders

Blinding lights on your eyes

From the chatter of voices

Easy distractions

And absolute silence together

From pineapple juice

Stacks of Strepsils

Proud smiles

And laughter

I come from music in the streets

Accents and colour

Tunnels underground

And the shadows of people, in suits

But I‘m stuck here

In Shenfield