I heard birds on my return; shrill bursts through the stringy silhouettes of trees branches twisting as new Spring leaves reached out in the dark of the early morning. My footsteps echoed on the pavement church bells and soft lights slipped and fell from windows of shops and flats while street lamps clicked off as I passed. Eyes closed. The sky hung low over the park that was sunk deep in the middle; a crater in the surface of the earth filled with grass and other living things the train tracks gone. We circled the rim like eagles heads bowed to the ground and your hair, blonde now and soft as goose down waved; fluffy in the moon breeze; your newly browned skin creasing like paper rubbed out by the wind.