a thousand stars (random poem i wrote)
Sleepless, I walk in reverie
A soft bliss of wind kisses my cheek,
The city isn't a starry delight,
but the early morning rouse,
of commuters, coffee-drinkers,
I listen to songs about Los Angeles,
and feel its soul breathe in this city,
quiet, historical, built upon itself,
layers which separate to reveal layers.
The painters are out on ladders, working,
following their own paths, while I wander,
each doorway, shuttered and closed,
is a story, a memory, a people and a place,
filled with choices and feelings and I realise,
there's a world here, slowly opening her eyes,
gently raising her head from cold cobbles,
every person alone in the night has a story,
a life untouched by me, and I feel,
an urge, to buy them a coffee,
and hear every story, every lifetime, transfixed,
by the stars, hidden by daylight,
pinpricks of hope beneath the grey clouds,
and bluest skies, lost in the fuss of daytime,
just waiting to shine a little hope on us all.