It’s easy to miss the fairy-lights

The constant maze of suburbia,

Unoriginal: each house a print of the same photograph.

Bricks; uniform, mass-produced, identical

Stacked into rigid formation.

Christmas time: unlit fairy-light strands tacked up everywhere uniformly.

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But chinks in curtains reveal flashes of originality.

Precious jewels in the gathering darkness

A glimpse through a random window, one of many:

A pile of hand-sewn cushions on a worn leather lounge,

Photographs on the mantle.

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Reveal moments captured,

Brief imprints

Of individual identities,

Secrets suppressed

By the generic brick façade of mass-produced mundane.

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The wind picks up – a gentle breeze, Perhaps scented vaguely by frangipani?

The veil of night increasingly shimmers:

Fairy-lights!

Carnival of colours, elaborate patterns,

A dazzling maze of exciting creativity. Innovation suddenly obvious.

Hidden, but there nonetheless.