In the cities all along the back streets
The lace of the fire stairs hangs
Along the walls of the buildings
Like a sheer curtain framing a window
Bringing a cosy feel to the street
The domesticity of the neighborhood
Increases by leaps while obscurity
Is kept at bay with the high street lamps
It is called home to so many
Finding refuge in a door way
An underground vent is the best bet
Against the winter breeze
But is a highly disputed space
Carton boxes are a luxury.
The night will be good
When a friend shares a bottle
By the lit fire but it can be deadly too.
Lucette C. Bailliet
All rights reserved .
Credit Picture Gary Introne
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