This morning, the city slept in.
Each pavement was a pillow
and each street, a linen bed.
The cars chose rest over rust
and the traffic lights had no one
to blink to. Even the buildings
seemed sedate, without a whisper
at their windows or a shout
at shut front doors.
I think the clock has made a mistake.
All the overnight crews are now asleep
and the seagulls on retreat,
yet none have been replaced
with the sober and the half-sober,
just myself, half-mad and wondering
where the city has got to.
………………………………………………………………………………..
Colin Dardis is a poet, editor and arts coordinator. His work has been published widely throughout Ireland, the UK and USA. His latest collection is The Dogs of Humanity (Fly on the Wall Press, 2019). http://www.colindardispoet.co.uk