My silent feet patrol these streets
They seek no help from me.
Expectant clouds, form up like shrouds
They whisper destiny.
The stars have fled, to guide the dead
The silent moon, discreet.
The clouds, in pain,spew out their rain
The blackness, now complete.
I stare at dark store windows
At tortured mannequins,
They point at me, accusingly,
With frozen, knowing grins.
Grimy windows, curtains drawn,
Cast out thin shafts of light.
Shadows dance, as if in trance,
As drunken lovers fight.
In darkened alleys, shining eyes,
Of foxes on the prowl.
And just above the beat of rain,
Forgotten dogs do howl.
I look down at the gutter,
My shrunken soul stares back.
I kneel to beg forgiveness,
As lightening starts to crack.
I fear that my salvation
Will be washed away by rain,
I'll need to come another night,
And tread these streets again.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
