Poetry by Jeff Green

2746–The_small_hours_of_the_city.html

The small hours of the city

by cricketjeff on May 2, 2010.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

The final drunks’ I-love-yous fade to whispers in the air
And every stag night’s star has staggered past
The city streets stand silent no more echoes anywhere
Too bad this state of grace can never last
For the fox, it’s time for breakfast there are bats you cannot see
And a little bit of London now belongs to night, and me.

There are rainbows in the gutter round the image of the Moon
And the tumbleweeds of litter roll around
Past a pair of wings and L-plates that were new this afternoon
When tomorrow’s blushing bride was brought to ground
Now a cat grown fat on vermin waits for rats to find the chips
That were just too much indulgence for a slurring set of lips

I love walking in my city when there’s no-one else awake
When the hurly-burly bustle’s put aside
It’s the gap when life and nature try to mend each sad mistake
That we make as we are hurried on our ride
Empty parks see owls out prowling empty skies see too few stars
While the lanes of urban wasteland cast away their curse of cars

All too soon the morning chorus wakes the chaos of the day
Streets get swept and rubbish cleared before the start
But before these boring habits come to put my dream away
I will breathe it in to insulate my heart
And although I love my city filled with people in a rush
I will always know she’s sweeter when her streets are full of hush