The lights are bright,
The streets are busy.
Starting engines are like songs to my ears.
The buildings stand tall,
Some are pretty,
Others are old.
I like my city,
Because it never goes to sleep,
Like a child that just learned to walk.
I like my city,
Because of the bustling cafés,
A pungent smell of coffee looming in the
Air,
Fuelling people into their sleepless days.
But the true reason I like my city,
Is because when that old lady dressed in
Floral,
Struggles to cross the street,
The man with the classy business suit,
Walks up to her,
Loops his arm in hers,
And smiles as they walk across the street,
No associate meeting is more important
Than that.
I like my city,
It's not a breath of fresh air,
Because of all the exhausts of the cars
Around us,
But it's a place where people love,
As much as they live.
(A/n: this is such a cute little poem isn't it? No hidden agenda lol, I like it, what did you guys think? It's one of the most random ones I've ever written.
Xoxo,
Nikita)
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Poetic Justice
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