London Poem: Day 64

20 October

Sleepy streets become tangled
In the lulling lay of evening fog.
From a distance the gentle
Rumble of the N-line jostles
The slumbers of sleeping families –
But we, living without time,
Remain awake to further shake
The world from dreams.
“I’ll do one,” a voice cries,
and the orders spill out.
“I can’t see,” cries another,
“There’s no need, the route
To the mouth hasn’t changed.”
It is then the world wakes.
Dreams disappear and waking
Life resumes.

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