There’s something about
sitting In the sun high above
Back and butt both pressed
To wrought iron blood
An escape from fire, or
Rail to help one climb higher
City noise from below
spoke loudly but so
Did bold thoughts held so close
Only heard when alone, did they, most
Up above city life’s clatter
Warm, safe from chaos’s strata
Days once spent so poor
Were richer than ever.
Richer, than ever. …before