Another blistering domestic fight,
Her front door slams, and she takes flight.
In her pyjamas and slippers, into the night.
The sound of the row gives me a fright.
Do I go after her? Would that be right?
My own peace shattered, I put down my book,
And peer out of my window to take a look.
Then a crash! From next door, my own house shook.
I cower back in bed, my safe little nook.
But more loud noises, was what it took.
With torches and boots, I venture outdoor,
‘Ella! Ella?’ I shout into the moor.
The rain drowns all, it continues to pour,
I walk and search till I can no more,
Drag myself home, now drenched to the core.
It’s quiet now, all silent and still,
In the house next door, up on the hill.
Just my nerves shot, thawing from the chill.
I call her then, answering my will,
And saw the lace flutter at their windowsill.
Ella didn’t answer, his voice was gruff,
‘What do you want,’ abrupt and rough.
‘You busy body lady, I’ve had enough.’
When I protested and voiced my stuff,
HE dialled the police…
… this time they were tough.