A tall man bends low, <br />While there is time, <br />To pick up a lost coin <br />Lying in the bus lane, <br />Before the evening rush. <br /> <br />Students heading home <br />Hungry for their dinner <br />High up in rented rooms <br />Across the Shaky Bridge <br />Up there in Sunday's Well. <br /> <br />We walked by the Lee, <br />A looking glass for trees; <br />First kisses on a bench <br />As wild ducks pair away. <br /> <br />Sunset on the Western Rd. <br />Now an avenue of gold; <br />Blackbirds begin to sing <br />Around the Pink Clinic- <br />Place of medical healing. <br /> <br />On a building site next door <br />A dumper driver determined <br />To utilise the light of day <br />Lays up another load on top <br />Of a heap of stone and clay. <br /> <br />In the new hotel, the Kingsley, <br />Champagne in slender glasses: <br />Popping corks, loud laughter <br />And the night falling in the city; <br />The sweet music of a harp <br />Scintillating under chandeliers.<br /><br />Matt Mooney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/alive-by-the-lee/
