Sad Lions

Sad lions set in Moscow stone Watch motion streams With lips so pulled and long They follow people flows Sad faces, smiles, tears and laughs Fragments glum or grey Sad lions sucking on spaghetti strands Flags and symbols changed and rulers come and gone Sad lions droop in mournful pose Other creatures pompous proud Puffed fat as bloated toads Blank-eyed, hurry past With thoughts of car parks underground Or penthouses And towers higher than in Shanghai Higher than in Dubai Their lions would be gold The haughty sort to guard the doors For mannered faces be the mirror glass It wouldn’t be a Moscow thing to play At being lions, stretch one’s lips in sorrowed pout But then again, the merchants and the nobles Perhaps stayed young at moments in their day