A City at Night

A City at Night
By M.M.Mann

The pavements are a concrete river of mouldy grey from last nights rain.

Squish,splash,splosh my footsteps echo and reverberate away.

Walking in the dead of night guided by the neon lights,
Thier spasaming colour changes against the starlorn night's.

Distant voices of late night revelers yelling drunkern confessions and silly declorations, 
only to be recalled by morning investigations.

The sound of the late night bus, Hiss, rumble and growl as it lumbers along its tarmac to prowel.

This city is breathing. Its heaving. Your breath its stealing.

It's many voices and characters just a plot to unravel, under the cathedral which towers above like ancient babel.

The nights smell a cauldron of vomit, perfume and taxi exhaust fumes
while the bars pump out the tunes.

But this is my city. My home. In the lateness of the hour its nice to know im not alone.