The Sun rises on the city,
Sunlight shining through the cracked stone,
Steel bars stick out of crumbling concrete,
Like exposed bone

The city sleeps.

Cars lie still on the silent roads,
An eternal traffic jam,
Destinations never reached,
Nor homes returned to

The city sleeps.

Green creeps around the bricks,
Slowly creeping verdant infection,
Yet the land belonged to it,
A rightful reclamation

The city sleeps.

The Sun sets behind great clouds,
Shattered windows yearn for-
the warm glow of electric lights,
but the bulbs have long worn out

The city sleeps...




And may never wake again.

© Tom Edwards