PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I see my city glowing in the night,
With individual streetlights glowing faint,
As I compose this panegyric bright:
With self-awareness - postmodern, cruel taint.

I think of her, in my romantic vein,
As My Lost City. A place known only
As an idea beyond the window-sill.
Not lived or felt or seen or heard or known.

My unknown city. Yet when we go out,

With pubs and clubs and everlasting chat,
We feel we can exclaim with racous shout
The sheer serendipity of our night.

And when we wake and feel those weakling rays,
We know we have to do it all again.