I was sitting in the car outside Carrow Road waiting for A to finish a late shift the other week, coming up to two in the morning, when it was icy cold, and I needed to do something to keep awake, so I started a note on my phone, because what I wrote about was happening. It may develop into a full poem, but I think it stands already on its own.
The young woman with her shoes off
Tip-toeing across the road by the stadium
In subzero, her coat flapping open,
Her hair loose, and her face a look of
Surprise and hurry, the clock almost at
Two a.m., and her haste to be somewhere
Else before the lights burn out along
The streets and under the ice, her toes
Grated by the grit, and her shoes
Loose in her left hand freezing.