This Poem was Submitted By: Alan Booth On Date: 2001-08-15 07:31:05 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Towns

Snarling traffic, honking horns, Street traders stimulating sales. Neon signs flashing – “Buy this, buy that” Or “Come to the Essoldo tonight!” Weary businessmen and harassed bargain hunters Walk side by side with the bright young thing. With briefcases bulging And shopping bags spilling, All are running to escape the mad town life. Only the sound of urgent bells ringing halts the crowd;       “Is my house burning down?” Office boys with messages, Shop girls ringing up the registers Keep the town ticking in the mad day hours. Not till the buses, tearing at their seams Have carried home the last drab man Does quiet settle on the busy town And leave it alone to the worn out tramp.

Copyright © August 2001 Alan Booth


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