Night on the Town

Unfair charm and rakish hat

Their powers known too well

Offering jocund morsels that

Would mirth and heart soft swell

–

A dashing turn, a float of cape

Brazen in the London night

Beckoning on to such a place

That sobriety blushing slights

–

Where the top-hat flips to show

A parade of tigers in its depths

A barouche beneath cape’s billow

Of shadowy, colossal breadth

–

Hand to mouth fading faraway

In the beat of the London night

Gloves to snap, to drum and play

From stoop to chimney heights

–

Broad smile going Cheshire

For the neon tubes so bright

For the satyrs and their fires

Chasing ghouls and dragonflies

–

And falling to the void between

The laughter’s rolling beat

A pillow of sleep on which to lean

Until stone lies under cheek.

© 2012 Elizabeth Cook

 

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