I finally hit Broadway
not the Broadway,
but one in Stratford,

The Olympic gateway
and my way out.

On to Bow, the bell
and the roundabout,
beware
you cyclists
this is East London's
very own hell.

This is much of a muchness
such as it be
the traffic's quite light
at a quarter to three,
the night folk have left their
yesterday behind
and the 'Blind Beggar'
on the corner
Is closed.

The Belisha,
a beacon of hope we
don't get run over
winks
and we cross anyway.

The pigeons do well on
their tidbits of bread,
but
it always appears
that they're ready
for bed.

Market stalls and
hawkers calls
'Four for a pound
fresh in today'
the aroma of coffee
the roasting of beans
scenes of the day
unfold.

I'm getting old and
seem to notice lots more,
a timely reflection
before
time catches me napping.

mapping my way off Broadway.