MondayI July

On a quiet night the sea settles,
Softly slinky under a faraway moon,
Inkily winking to the lunar tune.

On a quiet night a busy building,
Divest of day,
Settles in the wake of its work-tired tide.
The secretarial swish of nylon shifts,
And the patter of bossy steel-heels,
Head for home.

Toil, toil, toil,
Chatter, chatter, chatter,

Populous with purpose,
A reason to live.
Year in, year out.
Endless chatter and clatter.

Gone now.
Long forgotten.
Leaving the building with its post-crowd calm.
Lights winked off one after another,
Their warm glow snatched from the gutters and railings below.