Illusions from another time
Walk the streets
Seeking a resting place
Away from the violence
The uncertainty that death brings.
The old man from under the bridge
The young girl hurrying in from work
The boy found with a leg missing
Mrs Hopkins from the bingo hall
Gladys Stokes, call girl and unlucky.
They each met an untimely death
Called to their maker before their due date
Left to wander the same streets
Wherein lie their assorted attackers.
Their focus is always in the future
Wondering when theirs will greet them.
Until then, it’s the monotonous pacing
The solace you find in kindred spirits
For that’s all they are now,
Souls, aimlessly in search of they don’t know what.
But they each believe it’s round the next corner
As elusive as it is
They believe it’s there.