A January Day in London

Crossing one of Londons many grime grey bridges,
Watching
spirits escape on a freezing winters night.
My mind wanderng
to Moodisons many dreary precipices,
but theres no sight of
any life changing events.

The dull roar of a train
rolling reasurringly by.
And the backwashed light grows ever
dimmer,
and the erray of multi-coloured lights begin to
glimmer.
And the city hums as the rush hour traffic trudges
along.

And all around are every kind of
homeless.
Those with no home,
Those who choose not to
go home
And those with no home to go
to.

But the city is always there,
to
indulged whatever passion keeps out the cold,
and to offer the
hope of some dream fulfilled.
And theres always someone more
in need of sympathy.