London at night
by poetrydiary
People like poems trapped
in concrete forms, stacked and packed;
at night, cosily,
just as in Roman times;
safe from northern barbarians,
and warm.
Fizz of passing cars,
not impressing odd couples
walking and talking.
Concrete paths, rain-wet still;
light-washed and purposed, echoing,
just me.
Such a great city;
at night, you’re almost human,
barbarian though
I be.
Copyright ©2011 Matthew Rhodes
Walking back to my hotel through Shoreditch.
poetry diary 
You’re such a good word-painter.
Thank you. I’m certainly happier with words than paint!
Matt, I like this poem and the second stanza
is awesome.
Thanks Pamela – it was going to be longer as well but the end came naturally…!