Philly

Yet another poem, although very different from the first.

Philly

The city lights bounce off.
The clouds in pinks and purples
and only the sky behind is black
although hazy with no stars
trees, gnarled with vines and
plastic bags, stretch their
claw like branches upward
true black against the
outline of row house and
yellow street lamps.
against the purple pink sky
shining bright as a rainy day
brighter then night should be
but still darker then day
curtains hide the night
the light of man produced stars
which pollute the night air
with false hope and false light
the city is somehow still
awake although so many sleep
the clock reads one twenty three
and the seconds click by in time
with the polices sirens screaming
echoing through the rows
of brick houses. some empty
others filled with late night talkers
others dark as true night
filled with sleepers, dreamers
the city lights play in the sky clouds
dance in rainbow colors
Hide the first hints of dawn
play down the glorious color of
sunrising morn. True light
finally hits these harsh bricks
Shows the truth of the crumbling
rows of three story houses
that line the streets
like dancers held too closely together
like many sets of twins
The same as two bricks
The false light disappears
Empty street lights reflect
true light of sun in plain white
windows mirror the light
the day is brilliant
the city is dirty, like the windows
unwashed for many years
grimy yet efficient
trolley bells mix with traffic
and cops blue lights and sirens
continue as if the echos
of the night before had never
died away. And perhaps
like the street lights, which
will find their purpose
again tonight. Casting shadows
hiding the stars
hiding true night.