While My City Gently Sleeps
It’s quiet in the town beneath the shadow of the tower.
It’s not the calm before the storm.
It’s the sullent petulant silence of a sulking child.
The people of the town beneath the shadow of the tower
Have melted away into the dark grey
That is a summer’s street in winter.
The tower blinks.
And the empty quiet town beneath the shadow of the tower
Rolls over and goes back to sleep
Wherein to await the coming of spring.
“If my mind and my city were the same thing then I was losing my mind.” – Aleksandar Hemon, The Book of My Lives