As are the hundred others piled around;
Cast in common moulds, bereft of stories,
Quite unlike those nature carved from the ground.
Bridging the gap between the road above
And the waves below, disturbingly calm;
They crawl their way crisscross along the coast,
Like forming crease lines in an infant's palm.
From the footpath leading to where I sit,
The drive curves evenly across the sea
To where the captive waters of the bay,
Escape their walls and on the beach spill free.
With street lamps on guard, hazy lines of light
From cars, encroach beyond the embankment,
Catch the silver ripples as they creep back
Into the shadows the towers have sent.
Though the stars, spread out, refuse to take sides,
Over the high-rises the moon hangs low,
A halo where we expect tiaras,
Bathing all I see with it's warm white glow.
1 comment:
Oh! this is so beautiful..so good to read
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