The City of Lunatics
Look at the sky,
Cloudy, gloomy and shy.
Did someone summoned?
The Spectre to drop by.
In reverie, I saw, across the dark woods,
The log-cabins, in silence, stood.
A raindrop touched my skin,
Hurled from the trance, I was in.
Found myself in the City of Lunatics,
The pavements were full of faces,
Changing positions, their feet race.
Parasol of discreet colours followed,
Black boots murmured, beating the hollow.
Within few blinks the dingy streets were empty,
A horse stood by a carriage, alone, felt petty.
The neon lights called for dusk,
The rain showered like Love's not lost.
The tall concretes almost covered the sky,
I didn't stop, kept walking by.
Ciggarettes and stakes odoured round,
Inside the cafes,
Fingers on the tech keys, danced around.
Nobody noticed the rain: As they searched--
For peace in cups of coffee blend.
The grey city was high on fags and chimney smoke,
But for a moment, the shower
Freed the city from head case folks.
It stopped. The lunatics and birds returned home,
The sky became prussian dark.
In some nearby alley,
Maybe to a stranger, the stray dogs bark.