Lowley

Endless roads and mean, brick boxes; A sprawling, urban mess. Acrid fumes and unknown toxins Pass from exhaust to chest. And as I walk over grit and plastic, Past bin bags and stolen trolleys, I dream of what England used to be, Before the black cough of lorries; Thundering machines of glass and steel Turning this air so sour, Barbarian beings at the wheel, Like boots upon on a flower. M. Lowley

The day's last moments of light, As Helios slips out of sight, That magnificent hue; Of cerulean blue, Is lost as we sail toward night. To the stars, I gaze in the gloam, Attesting their beauty, alone, Those diamonds of Atlas, Do twinkle with sadness, As they sing from across the unknown. Ascend does that marble of white, Waning, yet shining so bright, Whilst sirens of crickets, Ring out through the thickets, As Bats leave their roosts for the night. Oh! Those wondrous, infinite pearls, Floating so far from our world, They spiral and shine, Through the ages of time, Forever to drift and to swirl.