Brighton Streets

Do I dare look at you when I walk these streets? Chase your shadow as it crawls under my feet? For I have walked my way through These pleasant, summer nights Trailing any trace of you in amber Street lights. Hearing the laughter of men and women Drunken behind bars, their obliviousness Billowing with the smoke of cigars And once again I begin to wonder In these thoughts that shatter, asunder Of how unvoiced these nights have become. The scent of scones melting in tea The sugar, the beach, the creamed coffee How foolish do I ought to be? How much emotion becomes too much for me? And the sun that strokes the clouds at sea And hides its rays amongst them- I watch… as all this beauty encircles me. My eyes see not the glamorous dream That has been haunting the lives of many it seems The loveliness of love and its glimmering gleam The word that is only word That dream that is only dream. For I have seen it on all these smiley faces, Hurried looks, and warm embraces Can’t you see? How we all have been entangled in one giant Web of emotion? Is there ever a place between Wordsworth’s Daffodils and Poe’s Raven? I walk these streets listening to a busker Play his harmonica- As I flip a coin into his flipped hat, I wonder How different we are, him and me Or are we? Restricted we are to language and time, Enslaved in memory, engaged in rhyme How much easier it is to think of you and me Rather than the misleading amounts of Separating land and sea –illusory- I observe and am observed as I walk these Streets, and I feel I know nothing of Neither you nor me.