Grey Mottled Pastiche

A maze of tall ascending fingers pierce the sky Prominent and conceived as seeds In someone's fertile mind Crowded together packed in vertical line That overshadow the pavement below. Temples of finance and commerce Amassed in concrete and reflective glass As tiny moving dots like ants scurry and hurry below Metal boxes of all shapes and colours In the city like a river stop and flow. A array of stores billboards and eye catching signs Forming linear line The pavement wet with rain makes them shine. The hustle and bustle of traffic Horns And police sirens make a awful din But just normal and ignored by the residents and crowds That tread the pavement and reside within The collage of busy hectic city life For the lucky and affluent a shoppers paradise But for the homeless sleeping rough On the cold concrete Life is tough. Peter Dome.Copyright.2015. May.