I see a teenage girl on the swings in the playground opposite. It’s cold and getting late. I silently urge her to leave, but she doesn’t. Even when the street lights flicker into action, she carries on mindlessly swinging to and fro. She looks up at the window. My husband puts a hand on my shoulder and tells me to draw the curtains. “Nobody likes a snoop,” he says.

unable to avoid
the familiar shadow
behind me...
crows take flight
across darkening skies

Bio: Urszula Funnell