The City's Faces (An Ode to London)

Someone takes a heartbroken  bite alone, and cold.
Just minutes away, two relax in romantic opulence
Near to the ironic latest vintage,
The newest new.

Under the cities constellations,
Gazers and geezers in conversations
While a child grips her Mother's hand tighter
In the bitter cold of a quaint pathway
But still smiles at the brightness;
I see myself in her

Meanwhile, over the warmth of coffee and company
A man impresses his opposite,
And blows dust off what they'd forgotten;
I don't see myself in him

In the same evening close to historic beauty,
Lays a man
Wrapped up in what he can,
And what he can't do.
How do you sleep in the heart of the city?
Where the beat can wake you, or make you.
A group of newcomers walk past and catch a glance
And silently thank God for their own circumstance,
One mutters a prayer for him,
But they have to walk on now

Some streets away, in a row
A tailor jokes with his client
Off the cuff,
As he adjusts
His sleeve
To reveal
Just the right length of the gleaming white shirt

And away from this in a Kensington window,
A Grandmother smiles,
As a glimpse of an heiress reminds her
What she used to have.
But a small frame on the sill
Reminds her what she has, still.

At the bank of the Thames,
Two lovers
Newly bound
Admire the bridge
In its twilight glory
And stand longer,
Absorbing the blessing of one another

A world away now
In the same city,
Immigrant worker toils and grinds
With dirt on his hands,
And family on his mind.
As each push brings him closer
To his goal, and the edge.

Not too far apart,
Sits a pale faced intern
Lost in his hands
Wondering what he's doing there,
How he let go
And if there's still time

All photos from Google Images.

As he drags his soul from that chair to leave.
He had dreams of changing the world.

Now above its waters, in a plane,
Childlike joy upon her youthful face;
Will she make it?
She braces
What will she make of all these faces?