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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10 comments

    1. Haha no, actually, I have one more tomorrow – I came back to WordPress a little early 🙂 This is purely imaginary! I would really like to go to London though.

      Lily

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