Someone wrapped lights around the trees
To make the streets more beautiful
For tourists relishing their weeks
And lovers savouring their lives.
Now, like hopeful, pathetic kids
In the red glare of police cars,
They shine with feeble innocence
And droop beneath indifferent stars.

About bsixsmith

I am a writer of stories and poems - published by Every Day Fiction, The London Journal of Fiction, 365 Tomorrows and Det Poetiske Bureau - and a columnist for Quillette, Areo and Bombs & Dollars.
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