Peggy twisted the curls at her forehead around her the fingers.

He would pass by again without noticing.

His head as ever full of Lucinda's long blonde legs.

Peggy scratched at the armpit of her tight shiny red dress where it cut into the flesh pushing at the fabric stretched over the bosom.

She had a figure that good lingerie would bless with ripe curves and soft lines, but without the resources of a good mum or money, her boob, belly, bum sacked into the dress like so many over ripe tomatoes.

She had lovely feet, an arch drawn beautifully where her white sole met the brown of many footless summers on beaches far`away from this dirty wet corner of Hammersmith.

She sucked at the end of the pencil and humming a ditty known only to herself and her siblings began to scribble.

Starlings gather me
light wings shine
and twitter
at the supermarket
once again.

She smiled at her verse and began to sketch swiftly.

The lines of her drawings were bold and strong. Catching the individual character of each of the birds as they fluttered about her.

His heavy step scattered them, she sketched the back of his head at it receded into the shadows of the store doorway.

She leaned back and hitched her right buttock onto the bicycle stand, grinned and the mangy cur tied up next to her and began to whistle.

the Melody of love and she wished she were tall and tan and long and lovely.

Like Lucinda.