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London nights

Fresh summer evenings, shop windows, fancy dresses,
theatres buzzing with crowds,
coffee aroma from cafe doorways.

It could be the middle of the day in London,
it's a city of magic, a city of the night
as the West End awakes.

Lovers walk hand in hand in brightly lit streets.
bars harbour young dudes bubbling
to find romance or just sex.

I slow the car to watch a crowd gather as they
spot a street performer do his thing
and then I speed away.

If you look into the shadows you'll see tramps,
working girls, wayward teens with knives
and empty eyes.

Alongside the rich walk the poor and needy,
the gap is cavernous, shameful
and as they struggle others thrive.

One hand of black jack at The Sportsman
would buy a meal for them but the profit
all goes on the ‘black', a roll of the dice.

It's not nice but that's London life,
take the good with the bad
and hang on to the light.

poem by Ruth Walters
Added by Poetry Lover
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