I must have had a thousand feet to walk
your hollow lanes, like licks of fire that stalk
the harvest hay. Through your maze I beat wings
like moth to the flame. City of past things
too narrow to name, city of avenues
too wide to cross, city of endless queues:
I left your ant farm with its bird’s eye view.
I left the old block. I long walked my due.
Streets swept anew past the seconds I fled
cause time swallows fast, fresh feet tread my stead.
Farewell far city of brick memory,
my soles still imprinted with your fiery
mark. Upon cobbled stone, I’ll rest my feet
and watch as the masses flock to the heat.
Now in vaulted hall I stake the last stay –
lead others down your labyrinthine way.