LAMPLIGHT

LAMPLIGHT … Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet

A row of lamps border the Strand.

They stand erect and tall and grand

and stately – from an era past

whilst round them cold winds whip and blast;

young trees caress them with their fronds -

try to entrap them with their bonds.

Pole dancing trees with sinuous sway

they dip and lean most every way

sometimes with leaves they make jazz hands

waving to folks who walk the Strand.

Sometimes erotically they embrace

those rigid lamp-posts, such disgrace,

they have no shame, they flaunt their stuff

though sometimes they run out of puff.

And sometimes when they are in bloom

one sees a softer side.  The moon

resplendent in her velvet blue

shows us another side of yew.

And one often sees birds there, perch

not on a light pole – but a birch.