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May 8, 2017 | by  | in Poetry |
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Past midnight, and, obscured by darkness,

I lie a slumbering landscape, fabric and flesh.

Still silence rises to deep steady thumping

For a moment, I think it’s my own heart pumping

But it’s drumbeats, not heartbeats,

Though they merge for a few beats,

’Til the sound fades away, the rhythm swept on

With more roads yet to course along.


The city may sleep, but this little beat

Is the engine of life driving on through the night

City blood’s pumped by such bass heartbeats,

Flowing through hills beaded by street lights

Orange sequins that pulse

Against blue hued sky,

Keeping our little world alive.

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