Wells Street Journal

By Morghan Nunn-Menson

It was all cast

In colourless tones,

And an air

Of crossed eyes

Weighed down

The streets

Like a military parade.

 

The birds I heard,

But rarely did I see.

So much life,

Yet so little.

 

What united us,

It seems,

Were our guarded hopes

And sacred dreams

And the lullaby

Of sunset.