He takes photographs

of places

that I will never see,

he takes photographs

of doors that are crumbling,

its paint flaking off and carried

on the wind

to land on gravel paths and trampled upon

underfoot.

The masonry is cracking

and graffiti winds its way,

spray paint adoringly

in nature’s colours,

along to a point where it hides

the webs of cracked glass

and the solitary red van outside