Big Burst
Porthole misted glasses dangle
On the nose of authority
Subservient preservers
Jaundiced and sceptical
A receptical enduring a flow
Just knowing the tipping point
Where the fulcrum is an ally
Dry for a moment, as the clouds burst bubbling.
Sun drenched bystanders
Creating open arched and bowed arrows
For thourghfare revellers
Beside themselves with anger
Beleagured and drawing counters for black jack
They stride through a doorway
And the rattle of shutters
Just like a Humphrey Bogart moment
As the train draws closer
And closer to a tunnel
Copyright Patrick Turner-Lee 29th November 2015
Poet's Corner 