Title: City
by Nic from Northern Ireland | in writing, poetry
The rain is sweeping down
Through layer upon layer of
Hand-pressed cotton.
Dark streets hold secrets
In their gutters.
Rushing through the sewers
Each whisper resounds.
Above where you stand; next to me,
The eaves listen
But no words are shared.
Just a look from eyes
That make my skin sing.
Quiet lives are led on these streets.
Umbrellas out-
Black flowers unfolding
In ceremony.
And the town's chromatic nocturne awakes.
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