A City

It was a rainy midday noon,

No blue in sight, no quietly morose passerby,

The sky was a brilliant gray,

Mixed up in sandy grains of yesternight,

Coming down in deep, transparent pellets;

Pelting the pavements, dying in the millions,

Each a scream that no one heard,

Or perhaps you did, but seriously, who cared?

The cars did what they did,

Twisting this way and that, forever heading somewhere,

Though you wondered, where are they all going?

Though perhaps you could imagine,

That the World, the City, the Streets were empty,

Then perhaps, who knows, it wouldn't feel so lonely.

The rainy midnight hour,

No moon in sight, no insomniac or sleepwalker,

All hid from the burning of a million questions,

As the rain came slanting down across the streetlamps,

Blurring orange pools of lights,

Making wet a City that knew no contours,

Of the shape of a heart that was invisible,

Is invisible,

Is indivisible,

For the circumference of the City is known by your hands,

Dressing a multitude of colours that passed into the night,

That night,

As the words dropped away from the sky,

Melting across pavements,

As they made their way back into heaven.